Fireborn
by charmedlion22
Summary: Jaenarys Fireborn of House Targaryen is not her siblings. She doesn't want to go home, she doesn't want to rule. She's free and wild and wants to see the wonders Essos holds. But when Daenerys is forced to marry Khal Drogo, Jaenarys decides her new mission in life is to protect her older twin. I only own Jaenarys and her plot
1. Chapter 1

Have you ever stared out at the horizon, looking towards a home you do not know? Did you spend your days hoping and praying to your gods that someday you may return, and reclaim what was taken from you?

All my life, this has been the shared dreams of my brother an older twin. For them, Essos and the Free Cities we have been raised in are merely stepping stones towards a fleet that may carry us back to Westeros. To the Iron Throne, which my horrid brother is sure belongs to him. But a man as cruel as he is unfit to rule, just as our mad father was.

But while Viserys is an undeserving cowardly excuse of a King, my older twin is kind, honest, and quiet. Still, there's a strength and resolve in her eyes most do not see unless they truly look. Daenerys Stormborn, most call her, for the storm that waged during our birth. I am Jaenarys Fireborn, for the tree that burst into the flames the moment I came into this sad, monstrous world. She has taught me to be kind, just as my brother has taught me not to behave. But the fire that courses through my veins and makes me fight against the cruelty Viserys places upon us is all mine. He calls himself a dragon. The last dragon. But I know, deep down those are just more of his delusions.

While my sister bathes and is no doubt dressed in the finest of silk - our host Illyrio flooding my brother and ourselves with luxury in hopes he's earned Viserys's favor, I sit in my open-aired room, looking past the curtains to the sea beneath us. I've already bathed, the water steaming but my skin cool. My silver hair has been dried and braided, woven elaborately by the handmaids I've been assigned. The straps of my red dress fall down my shoulders, woven with silver, the bottom of the loose yet flattering dress sheer enough to see the tan sandals adorned on my feet. A three-headed dragon pins rest on my right breast.

To my side, a candle flickers yet remains lit. I smile and run my finger through it, soothed by the warm sensation yet unharmed. I know what I am. And I believe my brother is smart enough to have realized by now. And yet he remains deluded, referring to me as "useless wench". It is better than when he calls me "kinslayer", though. To him, I am a constant reminder that our mother is dead. Her last breath was my first.

Today is Daenerys's wedding day, if her groom-to-be approves. She is being married to the Khal of the Dothraki, in hopes they will provide my brother an army. They are ruthless warriors, barbaric and obsessed with horses, pillaging, raping, and fighting. They sound amazing.

There is a knock on my door and I stand. "Who is it?"

"Daenerys, Nary." My sister's musical voice shakes, and I rush to open my chamber and see her.

Her hair is dry and wavy, to strands braided back and tied together. Her dress is a light lavender and almost sheer, her nipples pointing out. The sleeves are soft and short. She looks the most uncomfortable I have ever seen her, and we used to live on the streets.

"Oh, Dany." I wrap my arms around her, the two of us silently crying. "I wish it was I brother was marrying off. You deserve more than he gives you."

"And you do not deserve my fate, hāedar." Little sister, the old Valyrian endearment Daenerys has taken to calling me.

"I am a kinslayer."

"Her death is not on you. How many times must I tell you to ignore Viserys." I nod.

"I suppose it's time, then."

Footsteps approach where we stand at my open door, and our tall, lean brother stares down at us, unamused yet his eyes scream of delight, no doubt about how we look. He is disgusting, and I pray there comes a day when he gets what he deserves.

"Ah, I see my two ravishing sisters are ready. It's best not to be late." More polite than he's ever been, he loops each arm around ours, escorting us down stairs to the agreed meeting place. Illyrio greets us with a slight bow, his people on the other side of the estate, getting into position.

"My King, my Princesses. I must say, you both look divine."

My sister smiles and I curtsy, feeling Viserys's glare on me. "Thank you, Lord Illyrio."

"You, stand beside me. The Khal must see only Daenerys, and you wouldn't want to distract him, would you?" Viserys whispers in my ear, tone threatening. My violet eyes glare into his blue, and I grit my teeth.

"Yes, my King." I stand to his side, head bent downwards to hide my presumed strangeness. Unlike my brother and sister, I inherited the violet eyes of our ancestors. It's one more thing Viserys hates about me. I have yet to learn to love them.

My brother remains impatient, turning to the Magister of Pentos. "Where is he?" He clutches a sword he's never once swung, and I find myself yearning to take it, having practiced on the streets and in the gardens with various roaming sellswords.

"The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality." Illyrio calmly informs Viserys, and I go back to staring at the ground. That is when the sound of hooves galloping upon cobblestone approaches. I smile at the sound, yearning to ride one of my own and explore the world my family has been exiled to. Unlike my brother and sister, I do not wish to return to Westeros. I have never wanted to be a ruler, not of people so ready to fight and die for a chair made out of swords. Can you imagine how uncomfortable such a throne would be?

I look up when four of the khalasar - yes, I have read what little there is about the Dothraki - come to a stop before us, the Khal in front of the other three riders. He is a massive man, covered in war paint but rather handsome, not at all what I pictured. I look back down so to not draw attention to myself. Illyrio walks to his new guests, welcoming them in Dothraki before speaking in the common tongue. I had Illyrio teach me some of the strange language, wanting to be familiar with it in case the marriage occurs.

"May I present my honored guest. Viserys of House Targaryen, the third of his name, the rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, his younger sister Jaenerys of House Targaryen, and his sister Daenerys of House Targaryen."

I look to the side to see my sister going to follow Illyrio, but Viserys stops her as our host continues to speak to the Khal in Dothraki. "Do you see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat they cut off their braid so the whole world can see their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated." I briefly look up, and see the giant eye me. Viserys turns my head to look at him and I nod, understanding I must look down. "He's a savage, of course, but he's one of the finest killers alive. _And you will be his queen_." Viserys whispers to Daenerys as Illyrio beckons her.

"Come forward, my dear." I look up slightly to see Viserys release Daenerys, my older twin walking towards our host gracefully, yet timid. Her shoulders are back, though, giving the illusion she is somewhat comfortable. She stands before her husband-to-be, the horse shifting a bit. Khal Drogo says nothing, only staring at her as he leads his men away.

Viserys rushes forward, confused. "Where's he going?"

"The ceremony is over." Illyrio informs him, patient."

"But he… but he didn't say anything! Did he like her?"

I remain where my brother placed me, but can hear what Illyrio says next and am thoroughly unamused. "Trust me, Your Grace. If he didn't like her, we'd know. Come, let us walk." Illyrio holds out his hand for me to descend the stairs so we may walk to the balcony and garden looking towards Westeros. We follow the men, and I take Dany's hand to center us both.

My brother and Illyrio stand against the stone fencing, Dany and I to the side, close enough to hear them. "It won't be long now." The Magister says. "Soon you will cross the narrow sea and take back your father's throne. The people drink secret toasts to your healthy." I look into Dany's eyes, easy to do as we are the same height. We both know it's a lie, but our brother is too arrogant to believe anything else. "They cry out for their true king."

My brother begins to walk towards the ruins of the garden, Illyrio with him. "When will they be married?"

"Soon. The Dothraki never stay still for long."

"Is it true they lie with their horses?" Viserys asks, and Dany takes my arm.

"I wouldn't ask Khal Drogo." I can't help myself. I laugh, earning a glare from Viserys.

"Did you say something, Jaenarys?"

"No, my King." I smirk at him, his eyes narrowing. I do not fear him like Dany does. I'm too sure I could kill him. A true kinslayer.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Viserys focuses on Illyrio, who shakes his head.

"I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of comment men." Yes, the poor kings. The one's history bemoans. Like my father. "My apologies if I've given offense."

"I know how to play a man like Drogo. I give him a queen, and he gives me an army."

"I don't want to be his queen." My sister speaks up, stopping the two men in their tracks. "I want to go home."

"So do I. I want us three to go home, but they took it from us." Viserys walks over to where we stand. "So tell me, sweet sister, how do we go home?"

"I don't know." She replies, looking a little lost. Usually I am the one to speak out against our brother. But I don't know the answer either. The only way for us to return - or them, if I get my way - is with an army and ships. Enough to take down the others.

"We go home with an army. With Khal Drogo's army." Viserys strokes Dany's face, almost lovingly though he is incapable of such a feeling. "I would let his whole tribe fuck you and Jaenarys, all 40,000 men and their horses too if that's what it took." I glare at him, knowing my violet eyes have darkened dangerously. He only kisses Dany's forehead, then mine, his chapped lips feeling like coarse sand against my smooth skin. He walks away from us to rejoin Illyrio, Dany holding my hand firmly in hers.

The next day, we have gathered with the khalasar in the ruins near Illyrio's estate, my sister in a light blue dress and myself in a violet, to match my eyes. I sit between her and my brother, Dany's new husband on her other side watching the festivities. Women and men are dancing raunchingly, the drums beat loud and heavy, and the rest of the Dothraki and Illyrio's people are talking or eating. A man comes forward, offering something in a bowl. I glance to the side and watch the sea move against the shore. The air smells of salt and smoke, some of my favorite scents.

A Dothraki comes forward to remove one box of treasure as a man ascends the steps carrying a basket of snakes. Dany gasps in surprise but I lean forward, curious. He rearranges them, leaving the box in the center of the offering space. I look around and watch as one man stirs the horse hearts, another tending to the small creatures roasting of a fire. The two dancers are joined by a woman baring her right breast, her skin dark. I can hear my brother speaking with Illyrio, but can't find myself to care about what they are saying.

The woman is joined by a man who bares her other breast, both couples practically fucking each other while the other Dothraki watch. My brother takes a swig of his drink, and I'm surprised he hasn't tried to join them.

A woman is pushed onto her knees, but she seems unbothered. The man behind her is pushed away, the next man taking his place. Khal Drogo looks impressed. The other man gets up, and thus begins the fight that ends with a man falling to his knees, disemboweled by the other's arakh, a half-sword, half-scythe Dothraki weapon. His throat is then slit and braid cut and tossed as he thumps down. My sister is nothing short of disgusted, but I hear Illyrio say,

"A Dothraki wedding with at least three deaths is considered a dull affair." I laugh and clap, getting an approving nod from the Khal and Illyrio. Blood has never really bothered me, and I've seen worse while living as an urchin.

A man steps forward, a small pile of books in his hands. He bows to the Khal, the two exchanging words I have yet to remember. By the tones of their voices, I can sense there is great respect between the two.

The man approaches, standing before Dany and holding out the three books. "A small gift, for the new Khaleesi. Songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms."

She takes them, looking happy for once. "Thank you, ser. Are you from my country?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. I served your father for many years. Gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful king." Ser Jorah glances over at Viserys. He walks away, Illyrio gesturing for four of his servants to approach, one duo presenting a box to Dany and another surprisingly presenting a smaller one to me. Illyrio stands, and waits as the boxes are opened.

In Dany's rest three scaled eggs, one black, one green, and one gold. I look down at mine to see a single egg, black and bronze in color. Dragon eggs, not seen by a Targaryen or anyone for that matter in years. I carefully pick mine up, stroking the scales. It feels warm, as though it's been resting with candles. Perhaps that's what it needs? "Dragon eggs, Daenerys and Jaenarys. From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful." Illyrio turns to me. "I am sorry, Princess, but the two beside yours were broken apart."

"It is no matter, Illyrio." I tilt my head in thanks, carefully cradling my egg.

"Thank you, Magister." Illyrio bows to my sister and sits back down, our brother staring at us in interest and with a hint of jealousy.

Khal Drogo stands, and myself and Dany put away our eggs, looking up at the man. Dany stands with him, watching with curiosity as the khal walks down the steps with purpose. My sister follows after him, slower. The rest of us stand, looking after them. I close my eyes, praying any gods listening that Dany will be alright. Drogo presents her with a white mare, and from here I can see her relax, gently stroking the horse's snout. A few words are exchanged between her and Ser Jorah, then Drogo steps forward and effortlessly lifts her onto the horses back. He swings up onto his own, and my brother takes my hand to pull us to where they sit, waiting to move. He clasps the end of Dany's dress.

"Make him happy." Dany looks ahead and the newlyweds ride off, an ugly smirk removing any Targaryen beauty from Viserys's face. I turn to look up at him.

"Has everything occurred to your satisfaction, brother?"

He looks down at me, unimpressed by my tone. "You should learn to keep your mouth shut unless spoken to, useless wench. I'll need some ships to carry my new army across the narrow sea, and that means marrying you off to someone with what I need. I'd hate to see you end up discarded or dead."

"No, you wouldn't." I declare, raising an eyebrow at the older, taller man. "Enjoy the festivities, brother." I turn and walk away from him, ignoring his calls. I am stronger than he knows, and I will find a way to protect Dany from his choices. I have to.


	2. Chapter 2

We've left Pentos, following each other one-by-one down a narrow path between overgrown grass. Most of us sit perched on horses, the others walking. I had noticed Dany looking tired and weak, and helped lead her to the side. Her loose pink dress moves in the wind, just as my loose white tunic. Knowing we'd be riding for a while, I had asked Illyrio for a pair of riding pants. Ser Jorah sees my nod and he comes towards us, friendly.

"You need to drink, my child." He tells Dany, concerned. "And eat." He hands a piece of dried meat to the new Khaleesi.

"Isn't there anything else?" She asks.

"The Dothraki have two things in abundance - grass and Horses. People can't live on grass." Dany takes a bit before handing the piece to me. I tear off enough for myself and return it, chomping harshly as I pet my black horse - a stallion, I believe.

Ser Jorah continues. "In the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are fields of ghost grass, with stalks as pale as milk that glow in the night. It murders all other grass. The Dothraki believe that one day it will cover everything - that's the way the world will end." Dany and I listen, my sister watching her husband ride past us. Ser Jorah watches her, and bites his upper lip. "It'll get easier."

She throws him a look and trots forward. I give Jorah a sad smile and let him pass, joining the line of riders. We continue down the path, and I smile at the grass surrounding us. I've never spent time out of a city unless traveling in a coach to see another. I'm reminded how vast and unexplored the world truly is.

Finally, we seem to have settled on the perfect campsite. As the other members of the khalasar set up the tents and fires, I have my horse gallop towards me sister, the other Dothraki seemingly impressed with my riding skills. I come to a stop next to her and shake my head at the Dothraki approaching to help, dismounting my horse.

"Thank you." I whisper in his ear, the horse neighing and nudging my face. "I think I shall name you Caraxes." He neighs once more, and I watch carefully as he is led away. Ser Jorah approaches, helping Dany down. Her handmaids run forward, alarmed by how weak she is.

"Khaleesi, your hands!" One cries, staring down the raw limbs. My own are throbbing, and I watch in concern as my sister is lead to a tent. A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to look up at Ser Jorah.

"She will be alright?"

"In time, young Princess. Do your hands need tending to?"

I look down at the blood and new calluses. "Perhaps a wrap."

Jorah yells something, and a young woman comes forward. "This is Davvi. She is to be your handmaid."

"Princess." Davvi greets, girl with my tan skin and dark hair. She only has a slight accent.

"It's nice to meet you, Davvi."

"Thank you. I hope to be of help." I smile and let her take my arm as she leads me towards a group of Dothraki women, all staring at me in confusion. "It only needs a quick wash and some wraps." Davvi announces.

"Oh good." I sigh in relief, letting her gently wipe away the blood.

"Do you like to ride, Princess?"

"Yes, I do." A few Dothraki women look at me, seeming to understand the common language.

"You ride like you were born." One says, complimenting me. I smile and nod.

"I would practice." I think back on what I had Illyrio teach me. Enough to understand basic introductions and conversations. Greetings and the such. "Sajak ezzo anna." A rider taught me.

One woman nods in approval. "Yer nesi Dothraki?"

"Disse zolle." Davvi takes some offered strips of cloth and begins to wrap my hands. I smile. "Do you think I'd be able to ride after this?"

"But Princess, your hands!"

"Please?" I ask, knowing I can tell her what to do but choosing not to give an order. I'm sure she's tired of men telling her how to act.

"I cannot tell you what to do, Princess."

"Please, call me Jae."

"Okay, Jae." She bows her head and ties the wraps. "If you wish to ride, I cannot stop you." I smile.

"Thank you. You are dismissed, Davvi."

"Dothras chek." She wishes me, and I stand and walk over to a bloodrider.

"Fini yeri hake?" I ask.

The Dothraki appears surprised, but introduces himself. "Cohollo."

"Cohollo." I think back, biting my lip and realizing I don't know how to ask for Caraxes in Dothraki. "Where is… where is my horse?"

However, Cohollo seems to understand. "I shall bring him." He stalks away, leaving me next to a spit and some Dothraki. Hopefully Davvi will teach me more, because that's just about all I know.

Finally he returns, Caraxes reins in his hands. He holds my stallion still while I grab the saddle and pull myself up, arms straining but thankfully I do not fall. As soon as one leg is swung over I center myself, remembering what I was taught. Ser Jorah approaches quickly, concerned. My brother is behind him.

"Princess, where are you going?"

"I wish to ride, Ser Jorah. And I shall. I have not seen lands like this in my whole life."

He sighs, and my brother comes forward. "You best be careful."

"Do I sense concern, Viserys?"

He scowls. "I would never feel such a thing for you, kinslayer." Ser Jorah looks uncomfortable.

Beside me, Cohollo tenses. He may not speak much common tongue, but he definitely understands tone of voice. He stalks over to my brother, who looks worried now. "Vos, Cohollo." He listens, only grunting at my brother before turning to me. He pounds his fist on his heart in respect before walking away. I turn Caraxes west, and look down at my brother. "It appears your army prefers me, Viserys." I click my tongue and pat Caraxes's side. Noting some of the khalasar riding around east I follow them, enjoying the wind on my face.

"I think you and I will be great partners, Caraxes." My stallion neighs, galloping past a Dothraki. The man seems to take it as an offering of competition and gallops past me. I simply follow after him, laughing. The rider is much older than me, but seems more inclined for friendliness. He's more experienced, beating me easily, but I find the ride simply freeing. He gallops over to me, circling.

"Yer Dothras chek."

There's no word for "thank you" in Dothraki, that much I know, so I simply bow my head. "Anha frakholat seris."

"Sek. Hazi davrae."

"Fini yeri hake?" I ask.

"Layofo."

"Layofo." I hold out my hand, and he looks at in confusion. "Shake." I make the motion, taking his hand calmly and shaking it carefully. He smiles.

"Shake." He repeats in the common tongue, before removing his hand. He then rides off, joining the other men. I sigh and gallop east, smiling at the world around me. I notice the sun beginning to set, and realize I should come back. With another click of my tongue I ride west, towards the camp. All I need to do is follow the smoke and the voices.

When I reach the khalasar, I bring Caraxes to a stop. Cohollo smiles and takes the reins as I jump down, bumping into the Khal. Gulping at the man, I step back into my stallion. The Khal just smirks before walking away, smelling of sex. Suddenly I feel guilty for leaving. What if Daenerys was hurt in my absence. Without even waving I run to where I saw her taken hours ago, ignoring the ach on my inner thighs and my palms.

"Dany!" I call, noting the curtains of the tent are closed.

"Nary!" She answers and I enter, watching as her three handmaidens tend to her. "My goodness, your hands!"

"I'm sorry, I was riding. I didn't mean to leave you."

She shakes her head. "I am fine, hāedar." I pull a small stool so I can sit across from her, two women tending to her raw hands while the other comes forward with a jar. I turn to see her three eggs in their trunks, surrounded by candles. I can't help but wonder if mine has been given the same treatment by Davvi.

"Have you ever seen a dragon?" I hear Dany ask, and turn to see the girl on her right shaking her head.

"Dragon gone, Khaleesi."

"Everywhere? Even in the East?" She asks again, looking over at her trunk.

"No dragon. Brave men kill them. It is known."

"It is known." Another handmaid repeats, pouring milk onto Dany's feet.

"A trader from Qarth told me that the dragons come from the moon." The girl on Dany's left comments, focusing on her Khaleesi's hand.

"The moon?" I ask, curious.

"He told me the moon was an egg." She smiles, then looks at Dany. "That once there were two moons in the sky. But one wandered to close to the sun and it cracked from the heat, and out of it poured a thousand thousand dragons, and they drank the sun's fire."

The girl on the right laughs. "Moon is no egg. Moon is goddess - wife of sun. It is known."

"It is known." The woman at Dany's feet repeats.

Before anyone can continue, I hear a familiar voice from outside the tent. "Khaleesi?"

"Yes?" Dany asks, and Davvi comes in.

"Oh, Jae, there you are."

"I am sorry for worrying you."

Davvi ushers for me to stand and I groan.

"Princess!" A handmaid cries.

"I am fine. Just sore." I tell them, then turn to Dany. "Will you be alright here."

Dany smiles. "Go. Stop worrying about me, Nary."

"Never. You are my sister." Her laugh follows me as Davvi and I leave the tent, walking towards my own. It's only a few shelters down, and though not as big as Dany's is obviously more refined than the rest of the khalasars'.

Once inside, Davvi closes the curtains, and I walk to my chest. The egg sits in a similar fashion to Dany's and I smile, carefully stroking the scales. "It is hot, Jae."

"I'm fine, Davvi. Thank you for taking care of my gift."

"Yes, Jae. Change, please." She holds out a tan robe and I nod, removing my clothes, completely bare. My thighs look ride, but otherwise in good condition, and I wince at the blood dotting the wraps around my hands. Davvi walks around me, carefully slipping the sleeves up my arm before walking around me and tying the robe at the waist, the top loose and almost baring my breasts. I'm lead to a chair and she gets to work cleaning my hands, the two of us settle into a quiet silence.

"Davvi?"

"Yes princess." She looks up at me in concern.

"Who are my sisters attendants?"

"Doreah, Irri, and Jhiqui. Why?"

"Just curious. I forgot to ask. They were talking about dragons. And the moon."

"The moon is a goddess."

"The wife of the sun." I murmur, staring at my dragon egg.

"Yes, princess."

I sigh and look over at Davvi as she finishes wrapping my left hand before going to my other side to continue her work. "So they are doomed to be apart?"

"They are soulmates, Princess. They are never apart."


	3. Chapter 3

The corridor is long and winding, and I feel a wet chill attempting to seep into my pores. Something is calling to me, something old and long forgotten. It screams, and I see fire erupting from a room. I hear wings flapping and look back, finding my surroundings have shifted. The corridor is gone, and instead I'm in a circular room, all corners absent. But what my eyes are drawn to is the sword that stands in the center, held up by two long hooks. It's saying my name, and I can't help but walk towards it. The moment I wrap my hand around the hilt, the world starts to shake. Something chants my name, "Jaenarys, Jaenarys, Jaenarys -"

"Jae!" I shoot up in bed, sweating through my loose bedclothes. Davvi is sitting next to me, concern written all over her face. "I thought I would not wake you."

"S-Sorry." I pant and run my hand over my face, still shaking. "Bad dream."

"You had an athdrivarido?"

"Sek." I stretch and crawl out from under the fur covers. "For the past few weeks."

"Why have you not told?"

I sigh. "Because my brother cannot see me weak. Anha eth hajlat."

"Hajlat, Jae." She gently corrects, ushering me out of bed so she can wipe the sweat from my body.

"Hajlat." She smiles at me, than brings over a bowl and water. Without her having to ask I strip, standing naked in my tent. Having spent nearly two moons in the khalasar, I've become accustomed to my new life. I enjoy riding, and some of the Dothraki warriors have helped train me to fight. The women speak to me as if I am a sister. It could be worse for me. Daenerys seems better adjusted as well. Gone are the bruises that marred her skin, and I've watched her become stronger, more self-assured.

Only my brother has gotten worse. He's become - strangely enough - even more petulant, and remains an outsider. As the days stretch and the rides become longer, he slips further into madness. But he is still a coward, a snake who coils into himself when a bigger threat is around.

I turn so Davvi can get my back, wincing at the cool cloth. My head turns to look at my dragon egg, and I smile. "Do you think it is wrong for me to hope for more?"

"I do not understand, Jae."

"I am afraid that if I were able to fly, I would still leave."

"Why?"

"Because in my heart, I know I want to see all the world has to offer. Not just the East, but the West, and further past."

Davvi turns me and places a hand on my face. "Hash yer asti k'athijilari?"

I nod. "Sek."

She sighs. "It is too soon to know, Jae." She straightens. "We ride soon."

"Okay. And Davvi?"

"Sek, Jae?" She turns from where she stands at the entrance of my tent.

"Can we keep this to ourselves?"

Davvi nods and smiles. "Ase shafki athdrivar." She leaves, and I dress in revealing Dothraki garments. A braided top made of dark brown hide, a tan skirt over tight riding pants. The only reminder I have of my life before the khalasar are my sand-colored leather boots, well-worn but nonetheless comfortable. My hands are calloused, used to riding for hours at a time, but I still protect my palms with leather gloved, the fingers removed so I do not overheat.

Davvi comes back from dumping the bowl, carrying dried meat and a horn of water. I take sips and careful bites of the tough meat as she brushes my hair, braiding it back so only loose strands hang in my face. "Are you ready, Jae?"

"Sek, Davvi." She sets down the horn and takes my hand, leading me out of the tent and towards Caraxes. I pet his face gently, nuzzling into his warm neck. His soft furred head bends down so he can nuzzle back.

"I see you and your stallion are still close, young Princess." I smile and turn to Jorah.

"Caraxes and I are the closest of friends, Ser Jorah. He has yet to throw me off."

"I assure you, that is a good thing."

I snort and look into one of Caraxes's dark eyes. "We trust each other."

"M'athchomaroon!" Drogo's booming voice calls from behind Jorah. Caraxes startles a bit, but I calmly take his reins and hold him in place. "M'athchomaroon, Khal Drogo."

"Hash yer dothrae chek asshekh?" He asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. I bow my head in respect before looking into his eyes with my own violet.

"Anha dothrak chek asshekh."

"Athdavrazar!" He bellows before walking away, presumably to see Dany. Ser Jorah smiles down at me.

"You are doing well her, Princess."

I sigh and go over to Caraxes's saddle, mounting him. "I am trying, Ser Jorah."

* * *

A storm has been brewing since this morning, the skies tainted with black and grey clouds. The wind rustles the trees but the khalasar rides on, unaffected. Khal Drogo rides in the front, Dany and I riding behind his closest men. His bloodriders. Ser Jorah is between us, giving us more Dothraki lessons.

"And by saying, 'Shieraki gori ha yeraan', you are telling the Dothraki that they will do well in battle. That the stars are charging for them."I nod at Ser Jorah's words. "Right. Like in the fight last night." I remember the blood and guts and wrinkle my nose a bit, the smell stuck in my nostrils.

Dany has been in her own world the past few minutes, and finally invites us in. "Do the Dothraki buy their slaves?" I look forward at the men and women walking, and feel a pang in my heart. Surely - no matter how used to it they are - their feet are bleeding and their stomachs aching in hunger. I remember the feeling all too well, before we found Illyrio and the few other Magisters willing to take us in. There was a time I worked in a brothel. My siblings do not know, having believed I was only taking care of sellsword horses. But the stables connected to the brothel, and men loved to look at the strange girl with violet eyes and silver hair. Perhaps they knew what family I belonged to and did not care. I was twelve at the time, and what I endured - even for only a few short months - was enough to haunt me for twelve lifetimes. I never laid with a man, but the stares were enough. I was not spared from their hateful, drunk hands, slapping me if a drop of wine or ale was spilled."The Dothraki don't believe in money." I hear Jorah say, and look over at him. "Most of the slaves were given to them as gifts.""From whom?" Dany asks, her voice strong. But I know inside her heart aches for these people. She's too good a person not to feel such things as remorse or a need to help.

"If your rule a city and you see the horde approaching, you have two choices - pay tribute or fight. An easy choice for most.""Most men are cowards." I look at Jorah. "A true leader defends their people."

Ser Jorah nods, but continues. "Of course, sometimes it's not enough. Sometimes a khal feels insulted by the number of slaves he's given. He might think the men too weak or the women too ugly. Sometimes a khal decides his riders haven't had a good fight in months and need the practice."

"Kash qoy qovi thira disse!" One of the Dothraki yells in front of us, whipping the head of a slave carrying a heavy basket. The man cries out and I flex my hands on Caraxes's reins, willing myself not to gallop forward and fight. The man keeps whipping, and my sister speaks up, holding the real power.

"Tell them all to stop."

"You want the entire horde to stop? For how long?" Dany stops riding at Jorah's words and I follow her lead, halting the men behind us.

"Until I command them otherwise." I smile at her words.

Ser Jorah is impressed. "You're learning to talk like a queen."

"Not a queen." She corrects. "A khaleesi." She nods at me and with both dismount. I pat Caraxes before following her into the field of thin trees.

When we're far enough from prying ears, I look at my twin. "I am proud of you, Dany. I always knew you were strong."

"If I were strong, I would have stopped that man."

"And he may of killed you."

"'A true leader defends their people'. You just said that."

I sigh. "Yes. But you do not have to fight a man thrice your size to do so. Change them through good actions, not violent."

"You would choose violence. Why are you telling me different?"

I smile. "I am no leader. I am a warrior."

Dany laughs. "Yes, yes you are."

Suddenly there is rustling, and I force Dany behind me. Trees sway down, cut, and in rides Viserys, face angered and sword swinging. "You dare!" He shouts. "You give commands to me? To me?" He swings down from his horse, sword pointed down behind me at Dany. I kick his shine, only to be caught off guard by my brother backhanding me hard enough that I land on the dirt, cheek throbbing. I glare up at him.

"Stay down, kinslayer." He rushes forward and wraps his hand around Dany's neck. I stand up, ankle a little twisted but otherwise fine. "You do not command the dragon. I am Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. I don't take orders from savages or their sluts. Do you hear me?" I yell and limp forward, pushing him away from my twin and standing in front of her once more. Before he can attack, a whip sings in the air and wraps around Viserys's thin neck, slamming him to the ground.

We look up and see the Dothraki warrior Rakharo holding the whip, displeasure written on his face. Jorah sits on his horse, the reins of Dany's in his hand. A worried Davvi hands him Caraxes's reins and rushes towards me, wrapping an arm around my waist. Irri comes forward, anxious as well.

"Hash shafka zali addrivat mae, zhey Khaleesi?" Rakharo asks, and I smile evilly at my gasping brother.

"Rakharo ask if you want him dead, Khaleesi." Irri translates for my sister, and I nod. Unfortunately, Dany's opinion is what matters.

"No." She answers, concerned for Viserys.

"Please?" I whisper, but she doesn't hear me.

"Ishish chare acharoe hash me nem ejervae nharesoon." Rakharo comments, looking eager to remove one of Viserys's ears.

"Sek, k'athjilari." I agree, and he smiles at me.

Irri turns to Dany. "Rakharo say you should take ear, to teach respect. Sister say yes." Dany throws me a look and I shrug. She sighs and looks down at our brother before address Rakharo.

"Please. Please, don't hurt him." She looks at Jorah before straightening and focusing on Irri. "Tell him I don't want my brother harmed." She sounds more sure of herself, voice no longer shaking. I groan under my breath, getting a small laugh from Davvi.

"Khaleesi vos zalo meme nem azisa." Irri tells Rakharo.

"Huh?" He asks, and Irri makes a face. "Chiftik." An insult, meaning cricket. His whip releases Viserys, who gasps for air before shakingly rolling onto his hands and knees.

"Mormont! Kill these Dothraki dogs!" He orders, face etched in marblesque anger. He stands when nothing happens. "I am your king!"

But Jorah does not listen. Instead, he looks to my sister. "Shall we return to the khalasar, Khaleesi?" With a small glance at my brother, she walks to her white mare, Irri helping her up. Viserys looks at me.

"And what about you, kinslayer?"

I just stare at him, face emotionless. "There will come a time when you wish you held your tongue, dear brother." With a nod to Davvi she helps me limp to Caraxes, who neighs and shifts down, laying for me. "You are so smart." I whisper, scratching his mane before straddling the saddle. His weight moves around as he stands but I stay on, unharmed. I look down at my tired handmaid.

"Come, ride with me."

"I cannot, Jae."

"But I am afraid I may fall. I am a little dizzy." Jae still looks unsure, but Dany nods. I hold out my hand and help her up, the girl wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Thank you." She whispers.

"Of course, Davvi." We ride after Dany, and I smile as Rakharo makes the dragon king walk.

* * *

The men in the khalasar stared at Davvi and I in surprise, but said nothing as the awkward angle of my ankle and bruise on my cheek suggested I would need some help. No one called me weak, perhaps because they heard I had protected their Khaleesi. Miles later, we had stopped in a new clearing. I asked Davvi to tend to me in Dany's tent, needing to be close to my sister.

"At-jahka." Mys sister tries, Irri braiding her hair. Davvi wraps my ankle, which is only a little sore now.

"Athjahakar." Irri corrects her.

"Athjah-hak-arh."

Irri chuckles politely, smiling. "Athjahakar."

"Athjahakar." Dany gets it right, smiling with pride. Just like the word.

"Athjahakar." I tell her, and she pulls a face.

"Show off."

Irri smiles, finishing the braid. "Yes, Khaleesi." She then reaches down and lifts Dany's right breast with her hand. My sister is of course confused.

"Oh, what are you doing?" She laughs.

"When was last time you bleed, Khaleesi." I look up in surprise, Davvi roving the cloth from my face in equal curiosity. My sister makes a face, then looks at me.

"Two months."

"Two months." I whisper. "Oh, Dany."

Irri nods, and smiles. "You change, Khaleesi."

"It is known." Davvi smiles in happiness, looking at me.

"It is known." Irri repeats, placing her hand on Dany's, where it rests over her stomach. I peer closer, and realize she has indeed gotten more plump in the front, a slight bump extending her skirt slightly. "Me azhasavva vezhofoon."

Dany looks at me, smiling slightly. But I can't help but feel worried. Mother died, giving birth. What if she does as well? What will happen then? I fear something is coming far more dangerous than Viserys's anger. And I must be prepared.


	4. Chapter 4

Ever since we discovered the Khaleesi is pregnant, all eyes have been on her, wary and protective. To carry a khalakka or a khalakki - a son or a daughter of the khal - is a great blessing. Of course like all men, the Dothraki wish for the child to be a boy. Someone they can make a warrior, as though women should not fight. The fair should be beautiful and lustful, a little dangerous, but never more of a threat than a man.

On the surface, Viserys seems calm. But anyone who knows him can tell he's ready to explode and claim what he thinks belongs to him. His delusions grow the further from Pentos we get, and as we reach the entrance of our destination I see him trot closer, finally allowed a horse.

The path to Vaes Dothrak is guarded by the statues of two horses facing each other, mid-gallop. Khal Drogo and his bloodriders become excited, escaping the khalasar to ride ahead. The rest of us stop, and I watch in amusement.

"Vaes Dothrak - the city of the horselords." Jorah tells Dany as she stares after her husband and his men.

"A pile of mud. Mud and shit and twigs." Viserys complains, unimpressed. I bite my tongue, keeping any retort to myself. "Best these savages can do."

"These are my people now." Dany tells him, her voice strong and defiant. "You shouldn't call them savages."

"I'll call them what I like, because they're my people. This is my army. Khal Drogo is marching the wrong way with my army." My brother starts to ride, a foul look on his face. I roll my eyes and turn to Dany.

"I wonder if he was dropped as a child?" She raises an eyebrow but begins to ride, chuckling a bit. As we continue down the path towards the tents and smoke, she turns to Jorah.

"If our brother was given an army of Dothraki, could you conquer the Seven Kingdoms?"

"The Dothraki have never crossed the narrow sea. They fear any water their horses can't drink." The Ser explains, and I peer around Dany to look at him.

"But say they would and did?" I ask.

"King Robert is fool enough to meet them in open battle, but the men advising him are different."

"And you know these men?" My sister asks, looking at Jorah.

"I fought beside them once, long ago. Now Ned Stark wants my head. He drove me from my land." He explains, looking a little ashamed. I pull a face, remembering why he's in Essos and not with his family.

"Didn't you sell people?" I question, unimpressed by his griping. "I would say allowing you to live was a great mercy."

Ser Jorah sighs. "Aye."

"Why?" Dany asks.

"I had no money, and an expensive wife."

"And where is she now?"

"In another place, with another man."

I nod at his answer, smiling at Dany before looking at the former slave-trader. "And now you're in another place. With other women."

He snorts, looking a little cheerful. "Aye. But why I sold slaves is no excuse."

"People, Ser Jorah." He looks at me. "They are people. They sleep, they eat, they shit, they bleed. They feel, they love, the endure awful suffering. They are people." With that I look ahead, our conversation over.

* * *

Davvi and I walk together through the tents, my friend acting as a guide and introducing me to other khalasars. A few touch my hair and lift my face to stare into my eyes, calling me "reaven yalli". Purple child, for my eyes. Cohollo and Pono - Drogo's Ko, his loyal bodyguard - have told a few of the Dothraki men about my riding. Layofo pats my back.

"Me dothrakh ma chaf."

"San athchomari yeraan!" I say, bowing my head in thanks.

He turns to the other men. "Me chomokh Khal Drogo, ma Khaleesi."

I turn to Davvi, taking her hand. "We should go. I would like to bathe."

"Sek, Jae." She nods. I turn to the men and stand.

"Fonas chek."

"Hajas!" They call, Davvi still holding my hand as we weave through the Dothraki, skinning rabbits and dogs, drinking, dancing… fighting.

"I shall get the water. You rest, Jae. You ride hard today."

I tilt my head, confused. "Are you not tired."

She smiles. "You are kind to worry. But I have walked longer. I am used to it." With that Davvi leaves me, and I untie the back of my top, back turned to the entrance of the tent. Twisting it around, I untie the corset-like back and let the garment fall.

"Why hello, sister."

I gasp and turn, arms crossed over my dress. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

Viserys grins, walking over to me. "I came to visit you, you useless wench. The savages are all talking about you. The sister of the Khaleesi, the woman rider. They think you fierce." I back away, sitting on my bed. "I think, if Khal Drogo does not give me an army, I will offer you to another khal. You would be his little slut, just like our sister. Except you may be worth less, When I tell them all how you killed your own mother. Still, you may bring me half the men I need."

I growl. "Sell me like Dany and you will be a dead king."

He comes forward, shoving me onto my back, his cold hand grasped around my neck. "Take care how you speak to me. You are nothing more than a stupid little girl. If I say you will be the slut for a khal and his men, and his horses, you will be. I am the King."

I cough and grin. "You are no king. You are barely a man. You are a scared boy, a cowardly snake." He squeeze harder, and I bring my knee up, slamming it to his cock. With a shout he releases me, coughing and moaning. I quickly grab my robe and cover my chest with it, hoping from the bed and kicking him in the ribs. "Get out."

"Do… d-do…"

"'Don't order you?' Brother, I will do what I like. Get out." I grit my teeth, and finally he stands, limping out. I let out a dry sob and fall to the ground, arms around my knees. Davvi walks in seconds later, carefully carrying a steaming pot. At the sight of me she gasps and sets it down, running to me and slamming down onto her knees. As she mutters words of comfort, I feel the world closing in. My chest aches, and my breathing becomes more erratic. So this is what fear truly feels like.

* * *

I decide against telling Dany what happened, barely saying a word about it to Davvi. Instead, I lay on my bed, hands cradling my warm egg to my chest and gently stroking the scales. "Jae?" Davvi gently says, sitting next to my head and stroking my unbraided hair. "What is wrong?"

"I feel weak, Davvi."

"I have not known you to be weak. You are strong. Strong as the Dothraki men."

"And yet here I lie. Weak."

She sighs and helps me up. "May I return your egg, Jae?"

"Thank you." I let the scaley orb go and swing my legs over the bed, adjusting my clothes. "How is my sister? And the baby?"

"Both were fine this morning, Jae. She is happy." I sigh. For now. Or as long as my brother stays away.

My brother. Oh gods, what if he hurts her?

"Davvi, Viserys! Where is he?"

She blinks, shocked by my sudden burst of energy. "Dorothea passed by me, saying she was going to escort him to your sister's tent. Why?" I gasp and leave my tent, running. "Jae, your feet will bleed! Yeri orzis!"

I ignore her though, and the small rocks digging into my heels and the bottom of my toes. Irri is comforting a crying Dorothea. "Davvi! Help Irri!" I shout, sprinting past the two girls and into the Khaleesi's tent.

Viserys lies on top Daenerys, holding her down. "You are a horselord's slut. And now you've woken the dragon…" Before I can dive in, Dany reaches for a thick golden necklace and whips it across our brother's face. With a cry he rolls off her, holding his cheek in pain. I help Dany up, checking on her and the baby, looking for any bruises.

Panting, she looks down at the scared boy in disgust. "I am a khaleesi of the Dothraki! I am the wife of the great khal and I carry his son inside me!" Viserys stands, looking too frightened to be a dragon. "The next time you raise a hand to me, will be the last time you have hands. And that goes for harming Jaenarys. Get. Out!" He shakily exits, and the energy leaves Dany. I help her to the bed and hold her, my twin wrapping her arms around me as well.

"He came into my room, yesterday." She looks over at me. "I was changing. I had to hide my breasts as he came towards me. He pinned me to the bed by my neck, and threatened to sell me to a khal, as he did you."

"Oh, Nary." She kisses my forehead, and I wipe my eyes.

"No, this should not have weakened me. What you have endured… I wish I had taken your place."

"I don't." I look at her confused. She tears up and kisses my forehead once more. "I am happy now. I no longer fear my position. But I fear the khals our brother would try to sell you to would do worse. Men enjoy breaking free women. And you would not break, which means you could die."

"Well, we wouldn't like that." She laughs, and we lay on the bed, arms entwined.

"But the reason why I am happy is not Drogo, but the son inside me. And you, here with me. I don't think I would be as strong if I didn't have you around. You are my hāedar, and my dearest friend."

"In Fire." I whisper, holding out my pinky.

With a grin Dany takes it in hers. "And blood." I put my hand on her stomach and smile.

"Do you have any names in mind?"

"Oh." She laughs. "Would you believe me if I told you I can not think of a single one?"

I laugh. "No!"

And for the next few hours - way past supper - we lay together, offering up names and voting them down. For that time, our worries dissolve into giggles and cheers, swept away like fallen leaves in the wind. I'm still worried about what my brother will do, but I find that with my twin, I can face it head on.


	5. Chapter 5

I used to say blood did not bother me. That I had seen enough. But the sight of my sister kneeling on a platform, silver hair tied back and smaller than I've ever seen her, ripping into a raw horse heart has me practically dry-heaving. Davvi rubs my back, gently reminding me not to show weakness. Ser Jorah briefly glances down on me, giving me a supportive smile. The dosh khaleen - khaleesi's who were widowed, and preside over this sacred Dothraki city - stand around her, chanting. "Rakh! Rakh! Rakh haj!" A boy, a boy, a strong boy.

As Dany gulps down the horse heart, my brother speaks up from Jorah's right side, and I shift away from the two men. "She has to eat the whole heart? I hope that wasn't my horse."

"She's doing well."

"She'll never keep it down." But Khal Drogo's prideful look contends my brother's claim. Blood is streaming down her arms and coats her mouth like a beast who has just feasted, but she looks fierce.

"Tell me what she's saying." Viserys orders, whispering to Jorah as he looks at the crone in front of Dany. How does he expect to command an army of Dothraki if he can't speak their language?

"The prince is riding. I have heard the thunder of his hooves. Swift as the wind he rides. His enemies will cower before him… and their wives will weep tears of blood." Jorah nods. "She's going to have a boy."

I smile. "Mother's intuition, I suppose. It is as she said."

"He won't be a real Targaryen." My brother declares, and I close my eyes in annoyance. "He won't be a true dragon."

Before I can retort, I notice Dany gagging a bit, heart gone from her hands. If she gets sick, I'll get sick, and we both will be killed. She falls forward and the chanting stops, all of us waiting. A few tense moments later, she returns to her upright position, swallowing. Drogo smiles with pride, and I've never seen the man look so soft.

"Vezh fin saja rhaesheseres!" The khaleen declares.

"The stallion who mounts the world." Jorah translates for Viserys. "The stallion is the khal of khals. He shall unite the people into a single khalasar. All the people of the world will be his herd."

The chanting stops once more when Dany gets to her feet, strong and steady despite having just gorged on raw horse heart. "Khalakka dothrae mr'anha!" A prince rides inside me! "Ma me nem ahakee ma Rhaego!" And he shall be called Rhaego!

The women chant his name, a name that mixes my brother's with Dany's khal. Not Viserys, obviously. Rhaegar, a brother Dany and I do not know for he was killed in battle, before we were born. The Usurper's blade pierced him, and he fell.

As Drogo walks towards his wife, my brother finally seems to recognize his reality. "They love her." Drogo reaches Dany and lifts her in his arms, carrying her around as the rest of the gathering cheers their son's name. The khal looks down at me and nudges his head, ordering me to follow. I do so, walking beside the two as Dany takes my hand, smiling.

I turn to look at my brother, only to see him missing. Jorah looks around, then his eyes meet mine. Dany releases my hand so Drogo can set her back down onto the platform, and I back away.

"We need to find him, Ser Jorah." I mutter to the older man and he nods. The two of us disappear, unnoticed by the khalasar. We rush to my tent first, knowing his hatred for me extend far beyond what he now feels for Dany. To my horror, only one item is missing, the candles blown out and knocked aside. I push past Ser Jorah, leaving my tent and spinning in a circle, breathing heavily, looking for a head of silver hair. I see him in the distance, entering the khaleesi's tent. "Jorah!" I whisper, and the man follows after me.

Viserys kneels before the chest of dragon eggs, calmly putting one in his satchel and reaching for the others. Hearing us come in he stands, making to draw his sword from its sheath. "Don't let them see you carrying a sword in Vaes Dothrak. You know the law."

"It's not my law."

I scoff. "Then you are bigger fool than I've taken you for."

"Stay out of this, kinslayer." He turns his back to me and finishes taking Dany's eggs.

"Not until you put back our sister's eggs. And mine."

He looks at me, eyes narrowed. "I am the dragon. Not you or Daenerys."

"Because we are girls?"

"No." He scoffs. "Because you are weak."

"They don't belong to you." Ser Jorah adds, standing in front of me slightly.

"Whatever is theirs, is also mine."

Jorah shakes his head. "Once, perhaps." Viserys finishes taking the last egg, and turns to us.

"If I sell one egg, I'll have enough to buy a ship. Two eggs - a ship and an army."

Jorah raises his eyebrows, tilting his head. "And you have all three."

"I need a large army." My brother explains, then he looks down at me. "I'm the last hope of the dynasty. The greatest dynasty this world has ever seen on my shoulders since I was five years old, and no one has ever given me what they gave to her in that tent. Or you, for that matter. Never. Not a piece of it. How can I carry what I need to carry without it? Hmm? Who can rule without wealth or fear or love?"

I brush past Ser Jorah and face my brother, a hand on his chin. "You did not have to bear this burden alone. We could have helped you. Conquering Westeros took the efforts of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya together. Three Targaryens, not one."

Viserys shakes his head, and shoves my hand away. "You wouldn't have helped me. Do you think I don't watch you riding, always looking anywhere but to home?" I look away. "That's right. You never would have crossed the narrow sea."

I laugh humorlessly, and look up at my brother. "I would not have stayed in Westeros. I would have left after we won. But I still would have fought, because the throne and home mean the world to Dany, and to you."

He just scoffs, and refocuses on Jorah. "Oh, you stand there, all nobility and honour." Viserys pushes past me to stand breaths away from the Ser, and I follow, standing next to the Mormont. "You don't think I see you staring at my little sister, hmm? Not her." He clarifies, pointing at me, a reminder that I am different and thus not beautiful. "Don't think I know what you want?" He whispers, maliciously happy. "I don't care. You can have her. She can be the queen of the savages and dine on the finest bloody horseparts, and you can dine on whichever parts of her you like." My body shakes with rage, and I want nothing more than to spill his blood, laws be damned. "But let me go." He tries to step around Jorah, but the man stops him. Unamused, he looks at the Andal.

"You can go." The Ser allows, looking at me for confirmation. I just snort and look away. "You can't have the eggs."

"You swore an oath to me. Does loyalty mean nothing to you?" Viserys asks.

Jorah's face becomes even more tense. "It means everything to me."

"And yet here you stand! With the kinslayer!"

Jorah looks at me once more, as if telling me not to listen to my brother's favorite name for me. "And yet here I stand."

Viserys breathes heavily, then removes his satchel and makes to drop the precious eggs on the floor. Just in time, I catch the bag midair and hold it to my chest. Jorah moves out of the way and my brother leaves the tent.

I sigh and walk over to the empty chest, placing the eggs in their original order. "We cannot tell Dany, not yet."

"Why, may I ask?"

I look back at him, smiling softly. "You do care for her." I sigh and close the chest, crossing over to the older man. "Because she is happy, and right now she does not need to know what Viserys tried to do. But we will tell her tomorrow, after the festivities are over."

"Aye. Do you wish for me to accompany you to your tent."

I shake my head. "No, Ser Jorah. Please return to the ceremony. If Dany asks where I am, tell her I felt a little dizzy and left to get some air."

"Of course, young Princess." I leave him standing alone in my sister's tent, hoping my brother was smart enough to leave for good.

* * *

It is easy enough to look as though I've lost myself in the festivities, but the reality is I know my brother all too well. His anger and delusion know no bounds. But for Daenerys's sake, I simply put on a smile and laugh with the others.

Thankfully Irri and Dorothea wiped the blood from her face, neck, and arms, making her appear less like she had, well, eaten a raw heart. I had sat behind her while the other girls prepared her for the celebration that evening, rebraiding her hair and clasping the large gold necklace around her neck.

"Are you certain you are feeling alright, hāedar?" Dany asks, turning her head to look at me.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just needed fresh air. I'm sure you felt more overwhelmed."

Thankfully she takes my switch in conversation, nodding in agreement. "Yes, I did. But I am happy, Nary. So happy. I wonder, where is Viserys? He left as well."

I shrug, and finishing brushing her hair. "I suppose he has found a group of men to sit with and drink.

"Sun is down, Khaleesi." Irri tells us, Davvi poking her head inside.

"They are ready for you." My friend walks to me and helps me from the chair, Irri and Dorothea assisting my sister. Us two Targaryen girls hold hands as we are lead back to the temple. Davvi had dressed me in practically nothing; a simple piece of silk wrapped around my chest, each breast covered by one side of the fabric. It is knotted behind my neck, held together by a silver pin Dany gave to me long ago. My lower half is similarly revealing - a long thin skirt with slits cut around, baring my legs when I spin. My feet are clad in comfortable leather sandals. My hair - for once - is down, with braids woven around.

We follow the loud drumming and laughter, passing by other Dothraki who hollar and cheer wildly. Fires burn, lighting our way.

Inside the temple, the dancing has just started. Dany goes to see her husband first, sitting on his lap and watching happily. Women come around carrying platters of food, mostly roasted rabbits and birds. "Ser Jorah." I greet the older man as he approaches me, my arm now linked with Davvi's.

"You look beautiful, young Princess." He bows his head. "Perhaps we can share a quick word."

I look at Davvi, who raises an eyebrow. "Here is fine, Ser Mormont. I trust Davvi."

"Of course." He looks towards my sister, then back to me. "I've been told Viserys left Vaes Dothrak. He is gone, Jaenarys."

I nod, Davvi making a noise of confusion. "That is for the best. And tomorrow, we tell Dany. Now, please excuse us. I would like to dance." He nods and walks away, taking a seat next to my sister as she giggles with her hand maids.

"Shouldn't we go after your brother." I shake my head at her and drag her to where the other women are dancing, joining their movements as we twirl each other.

"No."

"But he's your brother."

"He tried to steal our eggs, Davvi." She stops dancing momentarily, shocked.

"What?"

"Yes. To buy a ship and an army. He would only pose a threat to Daenerys if he stayed. His heart as grown even darker since we left Pentos. Hopefully we'll never have to see him again."

She nods, and goes back to dancing, wrapping an arm around my waist as we face each other and spin. I copy her move and laugh, then let her spin me so we dance apart, feet moving wildly on the floor and my skirt twirling. "Wooh Nary!" My sister yells, laughing. I turn and wink at her, gesturing for her to join, but she simply shakes her head and pats her stomach. Right. I'm sure she's still working on keeping the heart down.

As the drums get louder, us girls turn harder, twisting our bodies and rolling our hips in circular motions. I feel as free as when I ride, all eyes on me. The women beside me clap for me as well, yelling and joining me as I travel around in a circle. Firelight bounces off the domed wooden walls, and such an enclosed space has never felt more open and beautiful, because it's full of life and love.

But as always, reality came crashing down, in the form of my brother stumbling in, drunker than any man in a brothel. "Daenerys! Where's my sister!" I take Davvi's hand and move past the other women, rushing up to stand by Dany and Dorothea. Viserys continues walking around, crying, "Where is she? Hmm? Where is she? I'm here for the feast!" The Dothraki are either confused or angry, and I see Drogo lean forward, dangerous as ever. "The whore's feast?" My brother asks some warriors, Jorah walking over to him and attempting to move him.

"Come."

"Get your hands off me!" Viserys cries, hitting at the man. "No one touches the dragon." He warns, finger in his face.

"Khal rhae mhar." I hear one of Drogo's bloodriders say. The sore-foot king. He and the khal laugh, getting the attention of my brother who turns to them, small next to the larger men around us.

"Khal Drogo!" He yells, arms thrown out. "I'm here for the feast!"

He walks towards the khal, who only leans back in his seat and announces, "Nevakhi vekha ha maan."

Viserys turns to Ser Jorah. "Khal Drogo says there is a place for you. Back there." He points towards the doorway of the temple. I smile.

But my brother shakes his head. "That is no place for a king."

"What king?" I ask, unable to help myself. Dany and Davvi try to pull me back, but I gently remove their hands from my arms. "All I see is a small, drunk man. Es havazhaan!"

"What did you say to me?" He asks, stepping forward.

"I said you could go to the sea, and preferably rot there."

"Do not speak to your king that way, you useless wench!" Viserys cries.

"You are no king." Khal Drogo declares, unamused. My brother simply draws his sword in the sacred temple, pointing it at Jorah.

"Keep away from me!" The drumming stops, the dancing women backing away hissing, all conversations ending.

"Viserys, please!" Dany cries, standing up. He turns to look at her, then me as I place my body in front of hers.

"There she is. Hidden behind our kinslayer sister."

"Put the sword down. They'll kill us." Jorah warns. But my brother does not listen. He only advances on us.

"They can't kill us!" He turns with a dramatic spin, weapon pointed at the older man. "They can't shed blood in their sacred city."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see the bloodriders get up. Dorothea attempts to step in front of me, but Dany pushes her away as the other girl gasps. My brother strikes me across the face but I stand my ground. Angry, he pushes me aside and points his sword at Dany's son, forcing our sister to sit down. All eyes are on the tip of the sword.

"But I can." He says, reminding us once more of his delusions. He looks over at Drogo, Irri leaning into the khal's ear to act as translator. Then he looks at Dany. "I want what I came for. I want the crown he promised me." I hear Irri translate, and Davvi helps me stand, checking for injuries. Viserys continues. "He bought you. But he never paid for you. Tell him I want what was bargained for or I'm taking you back. He can keep the baby. I'll cut it out and leave it for him." I growl and move closer to Dany, the sword now pointed at my neck.

"Touch her or Rhaego, and I'll kill you myself." I glare at him, eyes narrowed. He just scoffs.

"You have no weapon." Before I can answer, Khal Drogo speaks.

"Anha vazhak maan rek me zala." My head whips over to the khal's in shock, and he gives me a small smile before frowning at my brother. "Anha vazhak maan firikhnharen hoshora ma mahrazhi aqovi affin morri atihi mae."

I smirk at my brother, knowing the violence laced within the khal's wording.

"What's he saying?" Viserys asks me, but Dany speaks. I turn my head and see the same look on my face etched onto hers, my sister calm but expecting what is to come.

"He says yes." Our brother becomes excited. "You shall have a golden crown… that men shall tremble to behold." She finishes translating her husbands order, and I watch as Viserys gleefully sheaths his sword.

He looks to the khal, who regards him like a beast does their prey. "That was all I wanted." My brother says. "W-what was promised." He backs away, laughing softly. Khal Drogo stands and walks over to us. I move out of the way so Dany can stand, and he turns his back to Viserys to place a hand on her small bump before slowly removing it, twisting my body slightly to check for damage. When he sees none his hand returns to his wife's belly.

Her hand touches his and they make eye contact, holding a silent conversation. "Qora mai!" I watch as his bloodriders seize him, following the khal's orders. Cohollo breaks Viserys's arm, and my brother yells in pain.

"No!" He shouts as they move him towards the spit. "You cannot touch me. I am the dragon. I am the dragon!" I snort, getting a laugh from the still-serious Drogo. "I want my crown! Aah!" He's forced onto his knees. Drogo walks towards the men, unbuckling his gold belt.

"Ammeni haz jolin!" The woman tending the spit does as he asks, emptying the pot of the drippings into the fire before returning it to its position over the flames. As my brother continues to cry out, Drogo drops his belt into the pot to melt the gold.

"Look away, Khaleesi, Princess." Jorah comes up to us, attempting to have us turn.

"No. We will not." Daenerys tells the older man, taking my hand. Our brother looks at us, and it's as though every delusion that fills his head has melted away. All he feels now is fear.

"No, Dany. Dany, tell them!" He yells. He turns to me. "Jaenarys, Jaenarys! Please!" I only tilt my head.

"I thought I was only kinslayer or useless wench. It's nice to know you finally remember my name." I tell him, sneering in disgust. He starts to panic even more, shifting on his knees.

"Make them! Dany, make them…" Drogo grabs the pot, obviously happy with the consistency of the gold. "No, you can't! Just… please! Dany, please!" He cries, voice pitched higher. Viserys looks up from where Drogo stands before him, pot ready to tilt.

"A crown for a king." Drogo says in the common tongue, voice deep. My brother screams as the liquid is poured over his head, falling like a smooth golden waterfall. He continues shaking and screaming until finally he still. The metal cool, only the bloodriders are keeping him upright. But they let him go, and the body flops to the floor, the heavy metal crashing down.

"Khaleesi? Princess?" Jorah asks us, whispering.

I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed by the body and the floor. I feel nothing, no remorse. Only regret that it hadn't happened sooner. "He was no dragon."

Dany agrees with me, our hands still entwined. "Fire cannot kill a dragon."


	6. Chapter 6

**All translations are at the end of this chapter**

* * *

In the days following my brother's death, I had begun to feel lighter. More free, and not just while on Caraxes or dancing around flames. Because my sister is safe, and she is loved. I can't help but fear her heart is still set on claiming our family's throne. "The Stallion who mounts the world" surely sounds like one meant to conquer. The Dosh Khaleen's omens have only served to fuel Dany's want to return home.

Still, I can't help but ask "how is a place we've never really been our 'home'?" Home is not a place, it is a people, and here with the Dothraki, riding and moving and exploring, sharing meals with the "savages" and dancing with their women… this feels like home to me.

Davvi sits on the bed behind me, brushing my hair so the curls from last night's sleeping braids are unwoven. She apologizes when she tugs at a particularly stubborn knot, wetting it slightly with some oil before massaging the locks apart. "Your hair has become wild, Jae."

I laugh. "Well, I used to have these oils Illyrio gifted me, btu they've run out. They smelled of lavender and honey.

"There is a market I can take you to today. Perhaps we will find some?"

"The Dothraki have a market?" I ask, curious. "I thought they did not believe in money, that everything was given as tribute?"

"We do not buy things, Jae." She laughs. "The merchants come from distant lands and we trade with them."

"Hmm. Is there Dornish wine? Illyrio had a cask he shared during dinners." I remember the smell and taste of the sweet red liquid.

"There may be. Have you grown tired of Dothraki drinks?" She laughs, braiding the top half of my hair.

"Not tired. Bored." She laughs harder. "I am a princess, Davvi. I am only used to luxury. How dare you only serve me what the Dothraki drink and eat?" I put on a tone similar to my late brother's, and perhaps it's too soon to joke but I can't find it in myself to miss him.

She ties off my hair and helps me stand, removing my dressing robe. "I've never met a princess as wild as you, Jaenarys."

I raise an eyebrow. "What princesses have you met."

She rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean. Yer dothrak."

"Sek." I agree, moving my hair out of the way so she can tie my loose tunic around my neck and back. "Is it strange to call the Dothraki my home?"

"No, Jae. This is where you belong." She assures me. "Hash yer zalat kemat?"

I shake my head. "Vos. Sekke imeshe!" I cry out in amusement, and she shakes her head.

"San mahrazhi zhilak yer!" She comments enthusiastically, tying the belt around my riding pants, forgoing a skirt. "Akka dothrakhqoyi!"

I smile and slip on my shoes. "At asshekh." I promise her. "But I have never pictured even being in love."

"You have not loved?" She asks, confused. "Vos athhilezar?"

I nod. "Sek. Fekh."

"Fekh?" She asks in surprise. "Did you serve men?"

I shake my head. "Not in that way, no. But there were men who interested me. I am no virgin."

"Is it bad in your ramasar?" Davvi asks as I hold up my egg, smiling at the scaley warmth.

"Perhaps. But Westeros is not my land. Essos is." I set down the egg and blow out the candles, locking the chest. "I do not want to return to a place where my family was killed."

She smiles at me and holds out her hand. "I am glad to have met you, okeo."

"Anna sekke, Davvi."

We leave my tent, nodding and waving at the people we pass. Down the path my sister and her attendants wait for us, followed by Ser Jorah and Rakharo.

"Hash yer dothrae chek asshekh?" The latter asks, hand holding his precious whip.

"Anha dothrak chek asshekh. Ma yer?" I inquire, briefly hugging Irri and Dorothea before my sister.

"Athdavrazar!" He exclaims, and Irri laughs.

"Shall we walk to the market, Khaleesi, Princess?" Ser Jorah addresses, face grim but eyes lovingly on my sister's. She doesn't notice, and instead happily shakes her head.

"Yes, we shall. Come, dear sister. I have much to tell you." I give Davvi a look as she walks behind us with the other handmaids, Rakharo in the rear to protect us from behind.

"What did you wish to discuss, sister?" I ask, linking her arm with mine."

"I have asked Drogo to help us take Westeros, to reclaim our family's throne."

"The army Viserys wanted." I comment, and sigh. "Did he agree?"

"That man is impossibly stubborn. He doesn't understand what it means. He thinks the world ends at the Black Salt Sea, which he calls poisonous." She whispers to me, as to not draw attention to the slight insult of her husband.

"Perhaps he just needs time?" I comment as we enter the marketplace, my eyes focusing on the different merchants and stalls, and a man crawling around the floor on his hands.

When it's clear I'll be of no help to her, Dany sighs and addresses the Andal. "Can't you help me make him understand?"

"The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons. Have patience, Khaleesi. We will go home, I promise you." Jorah explains.

"Our brother was a fool, I know. But he was the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms." Jorah just laughs, and I look up at him with my sister. "Have I said something funny, ser?"

"Forgive me, Khaleesi, but your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror -"

"With Rhaenys and Visenya. Let us not forget the women who helped him." I add, getting another laugh from the Andal.

"Of course, young Princess." He bows his head. "Your Targaryen ancestors didn't seize six of the Kingdoms because they were their right. They had no right to them. They seized them because they could."

"And because they had dragons." Dany excitedly points out, and I nod.

Jorah sighs. "Ah, well, having a few dragons makes things easier."

"You don't believe it?" I ask.

Ser Jorah looks down at the both of us, eyebrows raised. "Have you ever seen a dragon, Khaleesi? Princess?" When neither of us answer, he continues. "I believe what my eyes and ears report. As for the rest… it was 300 years ago. Who knows what really happened?"

"History. Maesters' records. The dragon skulls that used to line the halls of the throne room." I point out, stopping to let a woman carrying a basket on her head pass by.

"Still. Now if you'll pardon me, I'll seek out the merchant captain, see if he has any letters for me."

"Well, I'll come with you." Dany offers, but Jorah stops her.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself. Enjoy the market. I'll rejoin you soon enough." I watch as he leaves, beyond curious. Before I can ask or follow Davvi whisks me away.

"So, you still want to return home?" I ask my sister as she smells some flowers. The man at the stall simply hands them to her, a tribute for the Khaleesi.

"Of course. It's all we've ever talked about."

"Dany, it's all you've ever talked about. You and Viserys."

She gives me a disbelieving look and raises her eyebrow, "So you want to stay here? With the Dothraki, wandering the East instead of Westeros?"

"Dany, Westeros is not home." I argue, thanking a woman as she hands me beaded bracelet.

My sister stops me, hand on my arm. "We must return. The throne is ours."

I only shake my head. "I've never wanted a throne. That's not for me."

Any conversation is halted when as we pass a man with a caravan of wine. "Virzetha gizikhven! Virzethi gizikhven vekha m'anhoon, Lysoon, Volantisoon, ma Halahisiroon."

"Perhaps some wine?" I ask my sister, hoping to ease any tension.

"Sovikh Tirosh! Jelavena Andahloa. Mra qora! Mra qora!" He pauses when he sees us. "Lekhi ha khaleesisaan? Ma khalakki?" We walk over to him, our handmaids following closely. "M'anhoon vekha virzethi gizikhven Dornoon, zhey erinaks." The man turns to my sister. "At lekhi ma shafka ahakee yal hakesoon anni." He offers up two glasses, and I turn to my sister

I grow excited at his words. "Dornish wine. Oh, please Dany!"

My sister laughs and turns to the merchant. "My son already has his name, but we'll try your summer wine. Just a taste." She clarifies, giving me a nod.

The merchant appears surprised. "My lady. You are from Westeros?" He asks in the common tongue.

Dorothea speaks up. "You have the honor of addressing Daenerys of House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Riding Men, and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms."

"And her sister, Jaenarys of House Targaryen, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms." Davvi announces, voice full of pride.

The man becomes more shocked. "Princesses." He bows.

"Rise." My sister gestures, and the man does as she commands. "We'd still like to taste that wine."

"That. Dornish swill!" He dumps it and I make a wounded noise, getting a laugh from Davvi. "Not worthy of a princess. I have a dry red, from the Arbor. Nectar of the gods. Let me give you a cask. A... a gift!" He enthusiastically climbs onto his caravan.

"You honour us, ser."

"The honour… the honour is all mine!" He tells Dany, returning with a heavy looking barrel. Before the man can hand it over to Dany or I, Rakharo steps forward and takes it. The merchant warily watches as the Dothraki walks away, before looking down at us. "You know, there are many in your homeland that pray for your return, Princesses." He bows.

"We hope to repay your kindness someday." I respond, giving a small curtsy in return.

"Rakharo." I turn and see Jorah approaching, looking displeased. "Azzohi haz khogare." He orders.

I watch as the merchant nervously shifts, raising an eyebrow. Without looking away from the man before us, Dany addresses the Andal. "I something wrong?"

"I have a thirst." Jorah responds. "Open it." Rakharo slams the cask into the smaller man's chest.

"The wine is for the Khaleesi and the Princess, it is not for the likes of you."

"Open it." Nervous, the merchants looks at each of us with eyes full of warriness. He sighs and puts down the cask, setting a small cup next to it. "Pour." Jorah orders once more.

"It would be a crime to drink a wine this rich without at least giving it time to breathe."

"Do as he says." The Khaleesi says.

The man sighs once more. "As the princess commands." He pours out a small cup for Jorah, then hands it to the man. Our friend takes a big sniff. "Sweet, isn't it?" He asks, too eager. I start to frown, subtly pulling Dany behind me. "Can you smell the fruit, ser? Taste it, my lord. Tell me that that is not the finest wine that has ever touched your tongue." Jorah makes to take a sip, but slowly lowers the cup.

"You first." He holds out the cup to the merchant.

"Me? I'm afraid I am not worthy of the vintage. Besides, it is a poor wine merchant who would drink up his own wares."

I turn to Rakharo. "Vijazerat Khaleesi." I whisper and he nods, gently pulling my sister and our handmaids aside so they are out of harm's way. Then I turn to the merchant. "You will drink. Or you will be made to drink."

The man smiles and nods, taking the cup from Jorah and staring into my violet eyes. Tense moments pass, and then he drops the wine to the floor, pushing me aside to run away. He slams a cask into Rakharo but thankfully Dorothea moves Dany in time to avoid injury. Taking Rakharo by the arm I pull him up, the two of us closely followed by Jorah as we try to catch the rat. When we get to a small bridge Rakharo brings out his whip and snaps it around his leg, pulling him down. Some Dothraki hold him down while Jorah leads my sister away.

"Jaenarys!" She calls, gesturing for me.

"Davvi stay with your Khaleesi. I will be fine!" I yell to my friend, who nods and consoles my scared twin. Looking down at the scum I slam my foot on the small of his back, receiving a painful scream. "Oh, hush. You're going to need your voice, just for a little while longer." The man looks up at me, angered and scared, but I only laugh. Perhaps he is unaware of just how dangerous a Princess can be.

* * *

I stand in front of the tied up man, watching as he bleeds from his nose and forehead. Spilling blood is against the law, especially in the temple, but he attempted to murder the Khaleesi, her son, and her sister. The law no longer applies. The little man glares at me, but I only smile and tighten the rope. "You are lucky I have not cut off your manhood and fed it to you." The man spits at me, but doesn't have enough saliva so it only leaves his mouth in a mist. Still, I wipe it away. "We'll see how brave you are when Khal Drogo arrives."

Just then, my sister and Jorah walk in, looking at the two of us. "What will they do to him?" She asks, standing in the same spot she watched Viserys receive his crown.

"When the Khalasar rides, he'll be leashed to a saddle and forced to run behind the horses for as long as he can." Jorah answers.

"And when he falls?"

Before Jorah can answer, I turn to my sister. "I will climb down from Caraxes and cut off his head, leaving him at the side of the path for the animals to feast on." I turn back to the merchant. "Does that sound like a good idea to you?"

"King Robert still wants us dead. Me especially." Dany informs us, worriedly stroking her stomach.

"This poisoner was the first. He won't be the last." Jorah agrees.

I turn to my sister and our protector. "Then I'll be ready."

Dany just shakes her head. "I thought he'd leave us alone, now that our brother is gone."

"He will never leave you alone. If you ride to darkest Asshai, his assassins will follow you. If you sailed all the way to the Basilisk Isles, his spies would tell him."

"Perhaps if you lent me a dagger, I could carve a warning into this rat's skin, and he will deliver the message to King Robert." I offer to Jorah.

"A warning would only anger him. He would never abandon the hunt. You're a Targaryen - the last of the Targaryens." Jorah looks down at Dany. "Your son will have Targaryen blood with 40,000 riders behind him."

"He will not have my son."

"He will not have you either, Khaleesi." I cough. "Nor you, young Princess."

Our conversation ends when Rakharo leads the Dothraki into the temple, the men carrying torches. He gives me a nod and a hand on my shoulder in respect. The others file in, surrounding the perimeter of the temple. Khal Drogo enters, seemingly bigger as his rage grows. His eyes are on Dany until he passes me and the merchant, who cowers in fear at the larger man's glare. He steps forward to take a torch from one of his men.

Drogo looks at me, checking for damage. Then he pulls me into his bare chest for a hug. "Hash azisi?" He asks.

"Vos." Khal Drogo releases me and nods, storming past the firepit and tossing the torch inside, lighting the room. He passionately charges at my sister, hands roaming all over her. "Zhey jalan atthirari anni. Hash azisi?" Dany shakes her head, and her husband kisses her forehead. I watch as Jorah shifts uncomfortably. The man then turns to the ser, thankful. "Jorah Andahli. Okki zhille hrazef. Fin allayafa shafka drogikhoon anni, me shafki." He places his hand on the other man's shoulder and leans in. "Anha asshilak jin azh shafkea haji rekoon et shafka."

Khal Drogo steps down and gently cups Dany's bump, my sister watching with love-filled eyes. "Ma rizhaan anni, vezh fin asaja rhaesheseres, maan anha valloshak azh akka." I walk over to them out of curiosity, standing to my sister's right. Khal Drogo starts backing away, becoming more passionate as he makes his vows. "Maan anha vazhak jin ardor shiqethi… finaan neva ave maisi mae." He walks around the fire, addressing his men, almost dancing. "Anha vazhak maan Rhaeshis Andahli. Anha, zhey Drogo, atak jin." He tells my sister, then nods at me. He returns to his declaration, speaking to his men. "Anha vidrik khalasares anni jim finaan nakhoe rhaeshesheser…" the men begin to cheer. "Majin adorthrak hrazef ido yomme Havazzhifi Kazga, ven et vo khal avvos. Anha vaddrivak mahrazhis fini ondee khogar shiqeth," he spits in the merchant's face before passionately returning to the firepit, "ma vohharek okrenegwin mori. Anha aqorisok chiories mori, vazzafrok yal mori." I look at Dany in shock at his threats of raping women and enslaving children, but she seems unaffected, watching her husband with unbreakable love. "Ma afichak vojjor samva Vaesaan Dothrak. Ki jini anha astak asqoy, anha, Drogo ki Bharbosi. Ki jini anha astak asqoy hatif Maisi Krazaaji kash shieraki vitihiri asavvasoon. Kashshieraki vitihiri asavvasoon!" I watch as the two souls breath together, full of life power. And I know there is nothing I can do to stop Khal Drogo's promise, nor my twin's determination to return home. Because the next day we leave Vaes Dothrak, Caraxes following behind Dany's white mare. A new arakh rests on my belt, presented to me by Cohollo. The merchant is tied to her saddle, naked as the day he was born. As we pass under the statues of the two horses, I glance back once to look at the home I had just found, a part of me left behind.

* * *

 **Yer dothrak** \- you are a rider

 **Sek** \- yes

 **Hash yer zalat kemat?** \- Do you want to marry?

 **Vos. Sekke imeshe!** \- No. I [am] too young!

 **San mahrazhi zhilak yer!** \- Many men love you!

 **Akka dothrakhqoyi!** \- Even [the] bloodriders!

 **Vos athhilezar?** \- No sex?

 **Sek. Fekh.** \- Yes. Seven.

 **Ramasar** \- land/country

 **Okeo** \- friend

 **Anna sekke, Davvi** \- Me too, Davvi

 **Hash yer dothrae chek asshekh?** \- How are you today?/Do you ride well today?

 **Anha dothrak chek asshekh. Ma yer?** \- I feel well today/I ride well today. And you?

 **Athdavrazar!** \- Good!

 **Virzetha gizikhven! Virzethi gizikhven vekha m'anhoon, Lysoon, Volantisoon, ma Halahisiroon.** \- Sweet reds! I have sweet reds from Lys, Volantis, and the Arbor!

 **Sovikh Tirosh! Jelavena Andahloa. Mra qora! Mra qora!** \- Tyroshi pear brandy! Andalish sours. I have them! I have them!

 **Lekhi ha khaleesisaan? Ma khalakki?** \- A taste for the Khaleesi? And princess?

 **M'anhoon vekha virzethi gizikhven Dornoon, zhey erinaks.** \- I have a sweet red from Dorn, my ladies

 **At lekhi ma shafka ahakee yal hakesoon anni.** \- One taste and you'll name your first child after me

 **Azzohi haz khogare** \- Put down the cask

 **Vijazerat Khaleesi** \- Protect the Khaleesi

 **Hash azisi?** \- Are you hurt?

 **Vos** \- No

 **Zhey jalan atthirari anni. Hash azisi?** \- Moon of my life. Are you hurt?

 **Jorah Andahli. Okki zhille hrazef. Fin allayafa shafka drogikhoon anni, me shafki. Anha asshilak jin azh shafkea haji rekoon et shafka.** \- Jorah the Andal. I heard what you did. Choose any horse you wish, it is yours. I make this gift to you for what you did.

 **Ma rizhaan anni, vezh fin asaja rhaesheseres, maan anha valloshak azh akka.** \- And to my son, the stallion who will mount the world, I will also pledge a gift.

 **Maan anha vazhak jin ardor shiqethi… finaan neva ave maisi mae. Anha vazhak maan Rhaeshis Andahli. Anha, zhey Drogo, atak jin. Anha vidrik khalasares anni jim finaan nakhoe rhaeshesheser… majin adorthrak hrazef ido yomme Havazzhifi Kazga, ven et vo khal avvos. Anha vaddrivak mahrazhis fini ondee khogar shiqeth, ma vohharek okrenegwin mori. Anha aqorisok chiories mori, vazzafrok yal mori. Ma afichak vojjor samva Vaesaan Dothrak. Ki jini anha astak asqoy, anha, Drogo ki Bharbosi. Ki jini anha astak asqoy hatif Maisi Krazaaji kash shieraki vitihiri asavvasoon. Kashshieraki vitihiri asavvasoon!** \- I will give him the iron chair… that his mother's father sat upon. I will give him The Lands of the Andals. I, Drogo, will do this. I will take my Khalasar west to where the world ends… and ride wooden horses across the black salt water, as no Khal has done before. I will kill the men in the iron suits, and tear down their stone houses. I will rape their women, take their children as slaves. And bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak. This I vow, I, son of Bharbo. I swear before the Mother of Mountains as the stars look down in witness. As the stars look down in witness!


	7. Chapter 7

**All translations are at the end of this chapter**

* * *

The path to a violent end is paved with blood and loss. Armies are meant to be bought, sold to the highest bidder in exchange for goods. And in Essos, I've learned people and objects are one and the same.

After riding for day, we came across a village large enough to plunder. It takes mere minutes for the Dothraki to overpower the villagers, and I walk angrily beside my sister. Being Vaes Dothrak, I thought I was becoming a part of a people. But watching them in action… I can't believe I had blinded myself from the truth, which is that they are no better than the lords of the Free Cities. The Dothraki are just more honest about their behavior.

Walking through the chaos, we watch a group of men pull down the people's statues to their gods. "What did they do?" My sister asks, staring at the beaten men and scared women.

"Haesh rakhi davrae zafraan. Khal Drogo vazhoe mora azzfrokea, majin azzafroki vazhi kishaan ma hoshor, ma tasokh, ma tawakof." Rakharo explains, pride in his voice as we pass moaning women and yelling Dothraki.

"I thought the Dothraki didn't believe in money." Dany turns to Jorah, but I only glare at her.

"Gold to hire ships, Princess, ships to sail to Westeros."

We pass children tied to posts, and I cover my mouth to hide a sob. I lower it and stop Dany in her tracks. "Do you see the price of your war?" I questions, horrified by the lengths she's willing to go. "Here is the difference between you and I, sister. I don't value my wants over the lives of others. Ask yourself - would it be worth it, sitting on the Iron Throne and knowing it was because innocent people's lives were ruined and ended in the process?" Before she can answer I turn around, storming back out the way we came. Davvi follows, she had no choice as I had grabbed her wrist.

"Jae, Jae, this is how it's always been."

"Yes." I turn to face her, once I am by Caraxes. "But this village would have been spared."

"Another would have taken its place." She reminds me. "You cannot stop the actions of the Dothraki, Princess. Others have tried." Davvi places a hand on my cheek and brings our heads together, kissing my forehead. "Do not lose hope for your sister. She has a kind heart."

I sigh. "How awful. I can't believe you're right. A mere handmaid." We both laugh, and she strokes Caraxes.

"It is nice. To be the smarter friend."

"Careful, now, that you don't grow too insolent." We laugh once more, but the cheer is suspended when Irri runs up to us, scared and out of breath.

"Khalakki, Khalakki! Yeri inavva!" She yells, panting. Whatever quarrel I have with Dany is placed on hold as I rush after the handmaid with Davvi, all the way to the village's temple. There I find an angered Dothraki - Mago, I believe, arguing intensely with his Khal. Drogo is seated on a throne of some kind, body parts of villagers next to him. I grab Daenerys's arm, my sister cowering into me.

"Anha vazhok khadoes yeroon virsalat." He declares, glaring up at Mago. "Anha ochomok yeraan kijinosi." He stands abruptly and walks up to his insubordinate, the man's arakh meeting the flesh between his shoulder and his chest, but Khal Drogo does not look uncomfortable. Instead he continues walking forward, ignoring the curved metal. Davvi starts to pull us back, Jorah thrusting his arm protectively in front of his Khaleesi.

"Inte vadakie tihoa." Khal Drogo warns, forcing Mago to move backwards. "Ma khewo afilki vi gadimaan." He removes the shoulder from the blade and practically dances under and around Mago's swings, walking up to us and pulling the daggers from his belt. "Eyel varthasoe she ilekaan rikhoya arrekaan…" He proceeds to turn and drop the blades to the ground, shocking my sister. "Vekha vosi yeroon vosma tolorro!" He runs at Mago and doges his swing, twisting so Mago's back is to the crowd.

"Atte yer eth addrivi anna!" Mago declares.

But Khal Drogo only becomes smug. "Jin anha ray et." He twists Mago's weapon so it's in his own hand and slices the Dothraki's throat, ripping his tongue out. With a savage grunt he throws it onto the pile of body parts and sits down, clearly winded.

My sister releases me and rushes before her husband, landing on her knees, between his own. "Shekh ma shieraki anni zisa."

Khal Drogo shakes his head, smiling at his wife. "Me zioshi… zhey jalan atthirari anni."

My sister turns to Qotho, Drogo's bloodrider. "Finni koalaki?"

The bloodrider remains silent, but Khal Drogo gets her attention. "Jini osto afisi." He wipes his hand over the wound, blood smearing across his chest in doing so. It doesn't look too bad, but it would be smart to cover it.

"Anha laz rhelak dothrakes vezhvena ha zisoshaan mae." A haggard women with thick, curly black hair announces from the grouping of women.

Qotho looks insulted by her offer. "Khal zigenee vo rellay ha zafroon fini govi oqet."

My sister glares at the man. "Me anni. Me vastoe." I smile at my sister's words - perhaps she listened, and at the very least saved the women from a worse fate.

The woman steps forward, the Dothraki guard allowing her. "Thank you, silver lady." She says in the common tongue, walking forwards.

"Who are you?" Dany asks.

The woman is stopped by Qotho, who holds an arakh to her head. "I am named Mirri Maz Duur. I was the godswife of this temple."

Qotho spits on the ground. "Maegi."

Mirri looks irritated by his superstition, but continue. "My mother was godswife here before me. She taught me how to make healing smokes and ointments. All men are of one flock, so my people believe. The great shephard sent me to earth to heal his…" Qotho backhands her, and she stumbles with a gasp. I rush up to catch her.

Qotho just smirks. "Ase sekke. Ase maegi izzi char."

"Lamb or lion." Mirri finishes her sentence, and I check her cheek. "Thank you, dear one." She turns to my sister. "His wound must be washed and sewn or it will fester."

My sister looks up at her husband, concern laced in her words. "Azhas maan affisat zis yeri, shekh ma shieraki anni… me azzisa anna jin tihat meyer qiyae."

Drogo looks up and over at Mirri before sighing in defeat, a slave to his wife's needs. She smiles and removes herself from me, walking towards the couple. Dany stands so Mirri can have a better look at the wound. But I stop paying attention to the trio, and instead look up at the tense Qotho. One Dothraki has rebelled against his Khal. Could a bloodrider do the same?

* * *

 **Haesh rakhi davrae zafraan. Khal Drogo vazhoe mora azzfrokea, majin azzafroki vazhi kishaan ma hoshor, ma tasokh, ma tawakof.** \- Lamb men make good slaves. Khal Drogo will make a gift of them to the slavers, and the slavers will give us gold, and silk, and steel.

 **Khalakki, Khalakki! Yeri inavva!** \- Princess, Princess! Your sister!

 **Anha vazhok khadoes yeroon virsalat. Anha ochomok yeraan kijinosi.** \- I will not have your body burned. I will not give you that honour.

 **Inte vadakie tihoa.** \- The beetles will feed on your eyes.

 **Ma khewo afilki vi gadimaan.** \- The worms will crawl through your lungs.

 **Eyel varthasoe she ilekaan rikhoya arrekaan… vekha vosi yeroon vosma tolorro!** \- The rain will fall on your rotting skin… until nothing is left of you but bones!

 **Atte yer eth addrivi anna!** \- First you have to kill me!

 **Jin anha ray et.** \- I already have.

 **Shekh ma shieraki anni zisa.** \- My sun and stars is hurt.

 **Me zioshi… zhey jalan atthirari anni.** \- A scratch… moon of my life.

 **Finni koalaki?** \- Where are the healers?

 **Jini osto afisi.** \- This is the bite of a fly.

 **Anha laz rhelak dothrakes vezhvena ha zisoshaan mae.** \- I can help the great rider with his cut.

 **Khal zigenee vo rellay ha zafroon fini govi oqet.** \- The Khal needs no help from slaves who lie with sheep.

 **Me anni. Me vastoe.** \- She is mine. Let her speak.

 **Maegi.** \- Witch.

 **Ase sekke. Ase maegi izzi char.** \- Too many words. A witch's words are poison.

 **Azhas maan affisat zis yeri, shekh ma shieraki anni… me azzisa anna jin tihat meyer qiyae.** \- Let her clean your wound, my sun and stars… it makes me hurt to see you bleed.


	8. Chapter 8

**All translations are at the end of this chapter**

* * *

As promised, Mirri Maz Duur healed the Khal. The women were indeed spared by my sister, who declared they belonged to her, and any man wishing to lay with them would have to marry. The Dothraki refused, and the women were left alone. Soon after, we returned to riding west to the Free Cities, the Dothraki hoping to find more villages and thus more to barter with. But the Khal does not look good. The mountain of a man caves into himself, riding under the sun with a wool blanket wrapped around him.

I notice him shifting his weight on his steed, and elbow Dany as we ride behind him. "Sister-"

She nods. "Khal anni…" Silence. "Shekh ma shieraki anni…" Nothing. "Drogo." She calls her husband's name.

And the great rider fell.

More than concerned my sister leaps off her white mare as I stop Caraxes, moving to stand behind her.

"Sajo anni." The man's eyes are closed, and he moans. "Sajo… anni." As my sister grasps the back of his head, Cohollo joins us, holding his Khal's hand.

"Qoy Qoyi." He cries out.

Drogo shakes his head, groaning. "Vos, anha'th dothrak."

Qoho rides towards us and scoffs. "Me Arthas hrazefoon mae. Khal fini laz vos dothrao, vos khal."

My sister looks up at the dismissive bloodrider. "Me haqa, vos ale. Me zigeree mithrat." She turns to Cohollo. "Kisha ray hazhahish chek asseskh. Kisha avimithreraki jinne."

I watch Qoho shake his head, arguing with his Khaleesi. "Jinne vos gache vimithrerat." He looks down at her in disgust. "Chiori vos assoo kisha. Vos Khaleesi akka."

My sister does not back down against the larger man. "Kisha avimithreraki jinne. Asti morea me Khal Drogo."

Never underestimate the stubborn stupidity of a man who belittles women. "Shafka vos assoo anna zhey Khaleesi."

I reach for the arakh at my hip, suddenly eager to spill blood, despite my sure death. My sister stops me by wrapping her hand around my calf, shaking her head. She then addresses the rebellious Dothraki. "Ezi Mirri Maaz Duur. Fichi mae anhaan."

"Maegi? Anha afichak shafkea nharees zhey Khaleesi."

Unable to stand his pride any longer, I turn my whole body to stare the man down and glower. "Fichi maegi yer Khaleesi ozisa che Khal Drogo achara kifindirgi yer ziganeso mae." I order, hand still on my weapon and teeth gritted.

After a few tense moments, Qoho growls and moves his horse. "Hyah! Hyah!" He rides off to find Mirri, Cohollo looking up at me with pride.

"Yer haj Khalakki." He compliments me. "Yer chomoe yer Khal."

I bow my head in thanks as we wait for Qoho to return with the hopefully unharmed witch. Dany looks worriedly down at her husband, and I fear the worst is yet to come.

* * *

The tents had been set up, our dragon eggs cared for. Davvi sits next to me as we wait for Mirri to tend to Khal Drogo in the largest tent, my sister anxiously sitting by his head. Drogo is speaking in tongues, his muttered ramblings making no sense. "Khaleesi." We lift our heads to see Ser Jorah has entered.

"Come." Dany orders, and the man walks towards us. "He's very strong. No one understands how strong he is." Jorah whips out his knife and kneels down, using the blade to lift the bandage. Beneath it, we see the festered wound.

"He will die tonight, Khaleesi." Jorah gently tells her, but my sister remains in denial, stroking her husband's hair.

"He can't. He can't, I won't let him."

"Even a queen doesn't have that power." I sniff and rest my head upon Davvi's shoulder, and she runs her fingers through my loose curls. "We must go, quickly. I've heard there's a good port in Asshai." Jorah tells us, standing and walking towards the tent's entrance.

"We won't leave him." I declare. "My sister will remain at her husband's side."

Jorah only shakes his head. "He's already gone, Khaleesi."

"Doth…" Drogo starts to mumble.

Daenerys looks down at him, love and pain in her eyes. "It is as Nary said. Even if… even if he dies… why would I run? Why would we? I am Khaleesi, and my… my son will be khal after Drogo."

"This isn't Westeros, where men honour blood. Here they only honour strength. There will be fighting after Drogo dies. Whoever wins that fight will be the new khal. You will not be touched, but Jaenarys… she may be taken by whomever that is." Jorah explains, looking at me carefully, trying to determine my reaction. Close to breaking down, I hide my face in Davvi's neck, my dear friend holding me closer. "But your son… he won't want any rivals." Jorah continues. "Your boy will be plucked from your breast and given to the dogs."

My sister starts breathing heavily. "I won't… leave him."

I look up when I hear footsteps, watching Mirri approach. She bows her head respectfully at my sister before tending to her patient. Qoho enters, scoffing.

"The wound has festered."

"Yer et jin zhey maegi." Qoho attempts to draw his weapon, but my sister stops him.

"Nakhi!" She shakes her head. "Anha vos zalok meme nem azzisa."

"Vos? Vos? Hash shafka vos zali meme nem azzisa? Zali mekisha vos azzisaki shafka akka. Shafk azh jin maegaan frakhat khales kishi." He kicks Mirri so she grunts and falls to the mat.

I growl and stand up at Qoho's words. "Javrathi lekh. Me zin Khaleesi shafki." Jorah warns.

"Kash Qoy Qoyi thira disse!" The Dothraki shouts. He glares at my sister. "Affin me drivoe, me vosi." He then points to me, grinning. "Vosma mae anni chiorikem. Zhey Khalakki."

"Anha vos yeri, Qotho." I tell him, voice strong despite the tears sliding down my cheeks. My sister stands awkwardly, the months that passed in Vaes Dothrak only helping her grow rounder. "Anha vosoon avvos. _Kisha_ qoy zhavvorsi." I smile at my sister, taking her hand.

"Ei zhavvorsa drivi, zhey Khaleesi." Qoho scoffs and exits the tent, but I turn to my sister.

"Not all of them."

My sister nods, then addresses Jorah. "I think you should wear your armour tonight, ser."

"I think you're right." He bows and leaves us.

"You saved me once more." Mirri comments.

"And now you must save him." My sister commands.

"He's beyond the healer's skills. All I can do is ease his path."

"Save him and I will free you. I swear it." Dany pleads. "You must know a way. Some… some magic." I look at my sister, shaking my head. Magic is not to be trusted, not when you do not know the caster.

Mirri straightens. "There is a spell. Some would say death is cleaner." My sister slowly sits, eyes on her husband.

"Do it."

"Dany, perhaps we should -"

"No." My sister interrupts me. "He is my husband, and this is my decision, hāedar." I nod.

"Okay. But you must be absolutely sure."

"I am." She looks at Mirri. "Save him."

"There is a price."

"You'll have gold, whatever you want."

I shake my head at Dany's words, sitting next to her. "That is not what she meant. I always heard, back in the free cities, that magic comes at a price far steeper than gold or silk."

"Your sister is right. This is not a matter of gold, this is blood magic. Only death pays for life."

"My death?" She whispers.

"No, not your death, Khaleesi. And not your sister's. Bring me his horse." Mirri orders Dorothea, who rushes off.

She returns shortly, followed by Cohollo and Rakharo, bringing the loyal stallion into the tent. Rakharo walks to us, speaking in common tongue. "Khaleesi, do not do this thing. Let me kill this witch." I nod, and turn to Dany.

"Please, you must not. I do not trust her." I whisper.

Daenerys shakes her head. "Kill her and you kill your Khal."

"This is bloodmagic. It is forbidden!"

"I have to agree with Rakharo!" I announces, taking Dany's hand. "This is not the way."

"Then leave." Dany glares at me, and I nod.

"Fine. Davvi, with me." My friend does not question it, and I lead her out into the sun. It feels as though a part of me has been lost, and I know deep in my heart Dany has made a terrible mistake.

I gather with the rest of the Dothraki, Rakharo holding my shoulder in support. Daenerys comes out with blood splattered across her face, and Ser Jorah approaches her in armour. "What have you done?"

"I have to save him." My sister answers, looking at the ground. He says something else to her, but I can't hear from where I stand. There is an unearthly cry from the tent and I rush forward, escaping the arms of Davvi and Rakharo.

"Jini'th vos eo." Qoho comes marching forward.

My sister shakes her head. "Jini vee."

"Maegi!" He declares, glaring at my blood-covered sister.

Rakharo grabs his arm as the Dothraki attempts to hurt my sister. "Mra qothoo vosaan." But he is elbowed in the face and falls, my sister panicking and running forward.

"Vos! Yer laz vos!" She is pushed to the ground, landing on her stomach, and I yell. Without thinking I remove my arakh from my belt and swing it up as Qotho's goes down, just as Layofo and Cohollo taught me. My opponent grins.

"Ma chiorikem."

I glare and knee him in the side. "Anni vos yer chiorikem!"

He laughs. "Vos." I dodge as he swings, and brings the arakh under my chin. Suddenly someone is tugging him back.

"Davvi!" I yell, right as Qotho turns and slices her stomach. She falls to her knees, blood pooling out of her and onto the sand. "No!" I cry out, rushing to her.

Jorah stops Qotho from hurting me, pulling out his sword. "Vos alle, zhey vezhak." As they begin to fight, I call for a healer. The women join me, and help me bring Davvi to my tent. They flutter around her, removing her top and holding wraps to her profusely bleeding wound. She pants and I cry.

"Jae… Jae."

"Yes, Davvi?" I wipe away a tear with a bloody hand. She cries with me, panting.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"No, no, shh. Save your breath. The fault is mine. I should not have fought."

"You must always fight, Jae." She tells me, coughing up blood. "Can I… can I… a-ask you some. Something."

I nod. "Of course. Whatever you want."

"May I hold the egg." I smile and choke on a sob, the tears running as the healers begin to step back, any hope lost.

"Of course, my dear friend." I get up and grab my egg from it's chest, and bring it to the dying girl, who had become like a sister to me. She cradles it to her chest, her blood smearing around it.

"S-she's a girl."

"It is just an egg."

She shakes her head, crying. "No, no! It's a girl!"

I sigh, laying down next to my friend so we are looking at each other. I ignore the blood around me, dripping onto my bed covers. "Alright, alright. She is a girl."

"You… you must p-promise me something." I nod, and she begins to pant, her eyes closing. "Ne-never. Never stop fight. Fighting."

"Alright."

"Promise me!" She cries, her eyes opening. I watch as her skin becomes gray and dry, darkening.

"Yes! But… but what has happened to you?" I ask, and she looks at her hand, eyes rolling back a bit.

"Mirri s-said. 'Only d-death. Pays for l-life'." She closes her eyes, tilting her head onto mine. "Anni athfiezar yer." I nod, and kiss her forehead. Suddenly she's become cold, and her last breath leaves her.

"I love you, too." I whisper, then begin to sob, holding the dead body to my chest as the healers try to pry us apart, but unlike when my brother was killed, I feel utterly lost and broken. And between us rests the dragon egg, warm with my friend's last words.

* * *

 **Khal anni… shekh ma shieraki anni… Drogo.** \- My Lord… my sun and stars… Drogo.

 **Sajo anni. Sajo… anni.** \- My horse. My… horse.

 **Qoy Qoyi.** \- Blood of my blood.

 **Vos, anha'th dothrak.** \- No, I must ride.

 **Me Arthas hrazefoon mae. Khal fini laz vos dothrao, vos khal.** \- He fell from his horse. A Khal who cannot ride is no Khal.

 **Me haqa, vos ale. Me zigeree mithrat.** \- He's tired, that's all. He needs to rest.

 **Kisha ray hazhahish chek asseskh. Kisha avimithreraki jinne.** \- We've ridden far enough today. We will camp here.

 **Jinne vos gache vimithrerat.** \- This is no place to camp.

 **Chiori vos assoo kisha. Vos Khaleesi akka.** \- A woman does not give us orders. Not even a Khaleesi.

 **Kisha avimithreraki jinne. Asti morea me Khal Drogo.** \- We'll camp here. Tell them Khal Drogo commanded it.

 **Shafka vos assoo anna zhey Khaleesi.** \- You do not command me Khaleesi.

 **Ezi Mirri Maaz Duur. Fichi mae anhaan.** \- Find Mirri Maz Duur. Bring her to me.

 **Maegi? Anha afichak shafkea nharees zhey Khaleesi.** \- The witch? I will bring you her head, Khaleesi.

 **Fichi maegi yer Khaleesi ozisa che Khal Drogo achara kifindirgi yer ziganeso mae.** \- Bring the witch to you Khaleesi unharmed or Khal Drogo will here why you defied her.

 **Yer haj Khalakki.** \- You are strong, Princess.

 **Yer chomoe yer Khal.** \- You honour your Khal.

 **Yer et jin zhey maegi.** \- You did this witch.

 **Nakhi!** \- Stop it!

 **Anha vos zalok meme nem azzisa.** \- I don't want her hurt.

 **Vos? Vos? Hash shafka vos zali meme nem azzisa? Zali mekisha vos azzisaki shafka akka. Shafk azh jin maegaan frakhat khales kishi.** \- No? No? You don't want her hurt? Pray we don't hurt you, too. You let this witch put her hands on our Khal.

 **Javrathi lekh. Me zin Khaleesi shafki.** \- Rein in your tongue. She is still your Khaleesi.

 **Kash Qoy Qoyi thira disse!** \- Only while the blood of my blood lives!

 **Affin me drivoe, me vosi. Vosma mae anni chiorikem. Zhey Khalakki.** \- When he dies, she is nothing. But she will be my wife. The Princess.

 **Anha vos yeri, Qotho.** \- I will not be yours, Qotho.

 **Anha vosoon avvos. _Kisha_ qoy zhavvorsi.** \- I have never been nothing. _We_ are the blood of the dragon.

 **Ei zhavvorsa drivi, zhey Khaleesi.** \- The dragons are all dead, Khaleesi

 **Jini'th vos eo.** \- This must not be.

 **Jini vee.** \- This must be.

 **Mra qothoo vosaan**. - Nothing good will come of this.

 **Vos! Yer laz vos!** \- No! You can't!

 **Ma chiorikem.** \- My wife.

 **Anni vos yer chiorikem!** \- I will not be your wife!

 **Vos alle, zhey vezhak.** \- No further, horselord.

 **Anni athfiezar yer.** \- I love you [between a sibling or friend]


	9. Chapter 9

**All translations are at the end of this chapter**

* * *

I sit at my sister's head, stroking her hair as she rests, Ser Jorah sitting beside me in a chair. She has purple bags under her eyes, and her skin is far paler than usual. She's been this way since she gave birth, as Irri informed me. I had come to her tent, ordering the others to leave Davvi where she rested, stomach sewn and covered in one of my old dresses. My body had still been covered in blood, but the tears has subsided. Until I saw poor Rhaego, dead long before he was born. His body was covered in scales, like a dragon's. But he was beautiful, and precious, and had my sister not decided to allow Mirri to do blood magic he would be alive.

My sister shifts, opening her eyes slightly. "Jaenarys. Ser Jorah." She moans.

Jorah gets down from the chair, helping me ease her up. "Gently, gently."

"My son…" She asks us. "Where is he? I want him." I sniffle, wiping a tear. "What's wrong? Where is he?"

"Oh, Daenerys." I sigh, brushing the hair from her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"The boy did not live." Jorah tells her gently, and I nod to him in thanks.

"Tell me." She begs.

Jorah sighs. "What is there to tell?"

"How did my son die?" She shouts.

Jorah looks down. "He never lived, my princess. The women say…"

"What do the women say? Jaenarys?" She looks at me, fire in her eyes.

I sigh, wiping away my tears. "Rhaego. Oh, I thought he was so beautiful. But…"

"He was monstrous, twisted." I turn to glare at Mirri. "I pulled him out myself. Your sister was not there to do it." Dany looks at me in concern.

"Qoho…" I explain. "He killed Davvi." She takes my hand and nods. I turn and glare at Mirri. "But my not being here did not curse the boy. You did."

"Hmm." She looks at me, amused, before focusing her gaze on my sister. "He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with leather wings like the wings of a bat. I went to wrap him, after your sister held him. When I touched him, the skin fell from his bones. Inside… he was full of graveworms." I stand, arakh in hand, and Jorah turns to glare at her. "I warned you that only death can pay for life. You knew the price."

"Where is Khal Drogo?" My sister asks. "Show him to me. Show me what I bought with my son's life."

"As you command, my lady. Come, I will take you to him."

"Time enough for that later…" Jorah tries to stop her.

My sister glowers. "I want to see him now."

I smile sadly and hold out my hand, helping her up. "We will do this together."

She nods, and she carefully stands from the bed, hand latched with mine as we leave the tent. Dany covers her eyes from the sun. She looks around, lost.

"The khalasar is gone." I nod.

"Yes. Just after Rheago's birth."

Jorah sighs. "A khal who cannot ride is no khal. The Dothraki follow only the strong. I'm sorry my Princess."

"Then why would they not at least follow Jaenarys?"

I snort. "Because I'm a woman. Because I almost lost to Qoho."

We walk in silence across the dry field, until we reach the end of the cliff. Daenerys takes off when she sees Drogo nestled in his spot, the Khal looking lifelessly someplace beyond. "Drogo!" She kneels down, stroking his hair. "Shekh ma shieraki anni." She turns to us. "Why is he out here alone?"

Jorah looks at her sadly. "He seems to like the warmth, Princess."

I sit next to her. "I came out here. To try and feed him. He won't… he won't eat, he won't drink."

She starts to tear up, and presses her lips to her husband's. "He lives." Mirri announces.

"But at what cost?" I ask her, unimpressed.

"She asked for life, she paid for life." She tells me, seemingly irritated that I don't understand her.

My sister turns to the witch. "This is not life. When will he be as he was?"

"When the sun rises in the west, sets in the east. When the seas go dry. When the mountains blow in the wind like leaves." Mirri turns and walks down the path, my sister standing. She takes my hand, then addresses the others.

"Leave us."

Jorah grabs her arm. "I don't want you alone with this sorceress."

"I'm not alone. Besides, I have nothing more to fear from this woman. Go." He nods and releases her, and we follow after Mirri.

The woman simply sits, observing a handful of grass. She looks up only when my sister speaks. "You knew what I was buying and you knew the price."

"It was wrong of them to burn my temple. It angered the Great Shepherd."

So that's what it comes down to. The burning and ransacking of an innocent village. I should be less surprised. But I did warn my sister. All of this happening because she longs for a throne across the sea, to be in a place that has never been her home.

But I can't tell her that. Dany has been through what no mother, no wife should have to face.

"This not God's work. My child was innocent!"

"Innocent?" She laughs. "He would have been the stallion who mounts the world. Now he will burn no cities. Now his khalasar will trample no nations into dust."

I whip out my arakh, placing it under her chin. "I spoke for you. I chose to listen to you rather than my people and my sister. I saved you!"

"Saved me?" She scoffs. "Three of those riders had already raped me before you saved me, girl." Every bone in my body wants to lower my weapon at her words, but I can't.

"You killed a child, out of fear of a prophecy." I argue, crouching down to her level. "Rather than allowing what may have been to happen, you pretended to be a god."

She levels me with a glare. "I saw my god's house burn, there where I healed men and women beyond counting. In the streets I saw piles of heads… the head of a baker who makes my bread. The head of a young boy that I had cured of fever just three moons past. So, tell me again exactly what it was your sister saved?"

I lean in. "Believe me, I never wanted to see your village destroyed. Any village, for that matter. I do not like war, or the violence it creates. And I am sorry, that the khalasar hurt you and your people. But Daenerys gave you a future, one in which you could have bettered the world around you, not just your people. Instead, you caused her pain."

She observes me, her head tilting. "You say you do not like violence, but you hold a weapon to my throat. Fire burns through your veins, girl. You are a protector."

"Yes. I am. And I failed to protect the one person who means the world to me. And what happened to you, I truly feel awful. But you hurt my sister, and I cannot allow that to pass."

She only lifts her eyes up to my sister, who watches anxiously. "You may have saved my life, but you should take a look at your khal. Then you will see exactly what life is worth… when all the rest has gone."

* * *

I kneel by my bed, room surrounded by scented candles as the lifeless body of my late friend lays against the furs. My egg is clasped in my hands, beating warmly. Davvi's words keep playing in my heart, but I only begin to sob, clutching the egg closer to my chest. A hand presses down on my shoulder and I jump, staring up at my sister. She is still haggard looking, her face grim. She stares sadly at Davvi, then sits by my side.

"I am sorry, hāedar. I seem to have made a mess out of things."

I snort, and rub at my eyes with one hand. "I am the more rational one."

She punches my shoulder. "You are. Sometimes. Though I worry you have become one with your arakh."

"If I hadn't, Davvi would still be alive. She'd be here, holding me. Talking to me. I'd never had a friend like her." I turn to Dany. "I love you, truly. I feel as though we share a soul. But aside from you, I've had no one. She was incredible, and I only ended up getting her killed."

"Jorah told me what happened. She saved your life. Don't blame yourself for being loved. And thank you, for protecting me, even when I failed you. I'm afraid I haven't been a very good sister recently."

I shrug. "You were just trying to get home."

She sighs, and leans her head on my shoulder. "I see why you wish to remain in Essos. But I am not like you. I do not crave adventure. I want to be where I was born."

"And I want that for you." She looks at me. "I promise, we will get you home. And when the time comes, we'll figure out what I'll do. But if we do this, we have to work together."

"Of course." Dany takes my hand, then touches my egg. She gasps. "It's so warm."

"Davvi told me it's a girl. When she was dying. I had to wipe the blood away, but Davvi was so sure. I kept trying to tell her it's just an egg."

Daenerys shakes her head, some energy filling her body. "No, no, don't you see? This is our birthright. We are dragons! We always have been."

"The dragons are all dead." I mutter, running a hand down Davvi's pale arm.

My sister turns my face to hers. "It is as you said. There are still dragons. They are not gone. They are here, with us. In us."

I shake my head. "It cannot be!"

"Isn't it odd, that all you've ever wanted to do was fly away? And then Illyrio presents you with an egg. A lone egg, because you have always been different than me and Viserys. I get three, because I was always meant to conquer. Viserys received none, because he was no dragon. We are dragons." She declares.

I sigh, then look at Davvi. "I don't feel like a dragon, sister. All I feel is weak and helpless."

She shakes her head. "That is not the Jaenarys I know. You have always been the strongest of us, even at the worst of times. I look to you for guidance, for strength, because of your spirit. You are Fireborn." She sighs and looks at the late handmaid. "What was the last thing Davvi asked of you? I want to know."

"She made me promise to never stop fighting."

"So don't." Dany wipes away the tears from my cheeks. "Listen to my words, hāedar, and believe them. You are a dragon. We are the last dragons."

I nod, breathing in. I think of all the times heat has never bothered me. The hours I spent riding Caraxes, the feeling of flying even while just running. My body moving like the wind, free and spirited.

"I am a dragon." I tell her, standing and placing the egg in its chest. "And tonight, the dragons shall rise."

She turns me around and envelopes me in a hug, crying softly. "I am proud of us."

Minutes pass, the two of us just holding each other close. Finally, I sigh. "You know what you must do, right?" I ask. She had moved the khal to their tent, where he lies on the bed.

She nods, breaking apart from me. "I know. And I will do it. Because I will see him again."

"Just don't make it too soon. I have a feeling Drogo will not be pleased that his wife did not win the many battles life will through her way before her last ride."

She laughs, despite the sadness in her heart. "I will fight, as my sister has always done." She kisses my cheek and leaves the tent, the sun having almost set.

With one last look, I exit my tent as well, Davvi alone.

Cohollo had left with Jhaqo, one of two men to split the khalasar. But he did not take Caraxes with him. My stallion simply nudges into my neck, and I hug him. "Oh, Caraxes. What am I to do?" He simply neighs quietly, removing his head. I brush my hand through his black mane and kiss the horse's cheek. "Your right, I guess. I must listen to Davvi. She's always right, you know."

* * *

It was evening when what remained of the khalasar gathered by the two pyres. One for their khal, and one for a girl who attended to every need of the Khaleesi's sister. One had all the power, and the other held none. But in death, they would be equals. Because Davvi deserved more than she got, and in the afterlife she will be queen of the Heavens.

Rakharo gathers his Khaleesi's eggs. I hold my own in my hands, standing next to my sister in the same red dress I had met Khal Drogo and his bloodriders in. My sister stands in her pale blue dress, the same one she wore at her wedding. Her hair is braided back in two layers while mine is only braided at the top, the rest falling in curls. It's not as perfect as Davvi could do, but I had to try.

"Is this your command, Khaleesi?" Rakharo asks. She nods, and he walks over to the khal's pyre, climbing into to arrange the dragon eggs around him. Ser Jorah approaches us, confused.

"Khal Drogo and Davvi will have no use for dragon eggs in the Night Lands. Sell them. You can return to the free cities and live as wealthy women for all your days." Jorah urges, but we shake our heads.

"They were not given to us to sell." My sister argues.

He turns to us. "Khaleesi, my Queen. My Princess. I vow to serve you, obey you, to die for you if need be… but let them go." We look up at him, and I shake my head. Taking his hand, briefly, I smile.

"Ser Jorah, you are a dear friend. But you must let us do this." Before he can stop me I walk to my friend's pyre and make the climb, gently arranging her arms so Davvi is holding the egg to her chest. I sigh and rearrange her hair so it fans around her, small wildflowers woven in. "I am sorry we did not have more time together. But I do not doubt you will live on in my heart. Anni athfiezar yer." I whisper, kissing her forehead before climbing down and standing beside my sister. She begins her speech, our hands entwined.

"You will be my Khalasar. I see the faces of slaves. _We_ free you." She declares, winking at me. "Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one will stop you. But if you stay… it will be as brothers and sisters, as husbands and wives." A group of people, the villagers and Dothraki alike, leave. But most stay behind. On her knees before us, Mirri Maz Duur laughs smugly. "Ser Jorah, bind this woman to the Pyres." He shifts. "You swore to obey me."

With a nod of his head he leads her away, doing the bidding of his Khaleesi. "We are Daenerys Stormborn and Jaenarys Fireborn of House Targaryen, of the blood of old Valyria. We are the Dragon's Daughters." I turn my head and see Mirri has been bound to both pyres, her arms and legs spread apart. "And we swear to you… that those who would harm you will die screaming."

"You will not hear me scream!" Mirri shouts, and I turn to address her. I shake my head.

"We shall." I tell her.

"But it is not your screams I want. Only your life." Daenerys admits, looking ahead and not back. I turn around and accept the torch from Rakharo, Aggo handing the other to Daenerys. We nod at each other and walk to the pyres of our respective loved ones, lighting the torches against the circle of wood around them. The fire spreads, following the pattern. We hand off the still-burning torches as Mirri begins to sing. Finally, she screams.

Without saying a word we look at Jorah, then each other. Then we enter the flames, our hands breaking apart as we move through the flickering fire. I feel my dress burn away, but I don't feel like I myself am melting with it. Instead I feel like I belong, and as I stand under Davvi's fire, I feel the air around me open up as the rest of the world closes in.

"I am Jaenarys Fireborn of House Targaryen. I am the Dragon's Daughter. And you shall be my daughter. My Davvi." I whisper to myself, closing my eyes and letting the fire consume me, kneeling on the ground.

* * *

My eyes had closed at some point, the world around me dark. But I wake to the feeling of nuzzling against my breast. I stare down, feeling the small body climb around my back, ending up on my shoulder. The world is bright, having welcomed in a new day. And the rest of the khalasar is awakening. In the distance, Rakharo, Aggo, and Jorah walk towards what little remains of the pyres. To my right, I see Daenerys curled up, ash smudged around her body but otherwise fine. I look down at my arms.

No burns. Only ash.

I feel the dirt under my ass, the wind around my body, and although I am as bare as the day I was born, I do not feel like hiding. Instead I turn my head, and stare into the bronze eyes of my newly hatched dragon. Her wings are bronze, her scales black. My Davvi, a girl. I can just feel it, in my heart. As always, my friend was right. And it feels as though a part of her is in my dragon. Perhaps she knew it would be, when she held it to her dying body. Or perhaps it is my own wishful thinking. But I know I love this creature, and now we are one.

"Davvi." I whisper, and the dragon purrs, climbing down onto my arm to look up at me.

Jorah and the two Dothraki reach us, the rest of the khalasar looking on in amazement. Jorah looks at me, then my equally naked sister with her three dragons, and kneels. "Blood of my blood." He declares, formally swearing his life to ours. He kneels, and my sister and I stand, our dragons making small noises of curiosity, perhaps trying to roar. Davvi settles on my shoulder, and I feel her wings spread. The khalasar kneels before us, heads pressed against the floor. Dany and I look around, her in seriousness and myself in amazement.

I am no leader. I am not meant to wear a crown and rule. But I vow to aid my sister. To be the rational one when she is irrational, and the warrior when she needs protection. I will care for the people who put their lives in our hands. I will be the dragon, as I was meant to be.

And I will get my sister home.

* * *

 **Shekh ma shieraki anni.** \- My sun and stars.

 **Anni athfiezar yer.** \- I love you [between a sibling or friend]

* * *

This is my final chapter. But don't worry, this was only part 1. I'm sure I'll post the new story sometime this week. I have other projects I'm working on, but I've really fallen in love with this one. Thank you for reading, and I hope you liked the beginning of the series. More will come!


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:**

 **Hello my gorgeous readers!**

 **The sequel has been updated, and is called Desert Embers!**

 **Please check it out!**


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